


Welcome to the Jungle

by Kellyscams



Category: Captain America (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adventure & Romance, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Video Game World, Angst and Feels, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, Happy Ending, Humor, Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-08-23 07:25:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 46,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16614509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kellyscams/pseuds/Kellyscams
Summary: After yet another bad day, Steve Rogers comes home to a stormy evening and the power off. Attempting to find solace in some random app on his laptop that's caught his attention, Steve's drawn into the game's jungle setting -- literally turning into his chosen avatar Captain America. Steve, along with four of his peers, Sam Wilson, Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton, and Bucky Barnes, must navigate his way through the treacherous lands of Jumanji to set the world free from the curse set upon it.To beat the game and return to the real world, they'll have to go on the most dangerous adventure of their lives, discover who's been waiting for ten years, and change the way they think about themselves and each other - or they'll be stuck in the game forever.





	1. In Which Players Are Chosen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [october](https://archiveofourown.org/users/october/gifts).



> Well, here it is. My contribution to Fandom Trumps Hates for @sergeantbuckrogers. Thank you so much for your donation to The Trevor Project and bidding on me, not to mention your patience and understanding while I worked on this for you. I hope you enjoy! :)

Rain.

Of course.

As if this day couldn’t get any worse. 

Thunder rumbles across the sky, the clouds finally opening up and releasing their long-awaited downpour. Steve sighs as he climbs the stairs back up to street level and huddles within his jacket to stay dry. All his pamphlets are gonna be ruined and the sign for his table keeps falling out of his grip. 

Not sure why he really expected anything else. It’s why he left the quad in the first place. Everything got all dark and gray and he knew there was no point in staying. Really, there’d never been a point being there anyway. No one ever gave him the time of day no matter how hard he tried to get through to them. 

People never care about any cause or belief or conviction he tries to raise awareness for. All they ever do is walk by him. Sometimes they’ll take a pamphlet. But the pamphlet -- even if it’s about littering and recycling -- ends up in the garbage at best or, most of the times, on the ground.

Sometimes, Steve wonders why he even bothers. But he always gets obsessed with a new cause and tries again. Someone has to. Might as well be him. These things need to be known, damn it, and his mother always told him to fight for what he believes in. 

Even if it leaves him a bit ostracized from most of his peers who don’t want to hear him preach and lecture about anything and most things. But he’s not gonna stop now. He started with ALS in middle school when his mother was diagnosed. Just because she died four years later and all his efforts made no difference at all doesn’t mean he’s going to give up now. 

Struggling with the door to his building, Steve kicks it in and drops all his things.

“Fuck you,” he grumbles to them. “Seriously. Just _fuck_ you.”

Steve adjusts his glasses before bending down and gathering everything back up again. Now he’s gotta walk up three flights of stairs with all this stuff because the elevator in this place is always broken. Student building indeed. 

By the time he gets to his apartment, Steve’s clothes are uncomfortably stuck to him and water is dripping off his locks of messy dark blonde hair and his socks are wet. He’s gotta change and he’s got no time for a rest. Not if he’s gonna get more signatures on his petition. 

There’s a pair of sweats on the floor of his bedroom and he grabs a shirt from his drawer. Steve throws on mismatched socks, shoves his feet in dry shoes and heads out into the hall. 

Steve doesn’t bother standing on his toes whenever he knocks on a door. That way the person inside might not be able to see him when they look through the peephole. Gets people to answer more, he thinks. 

This floor does nothing for him. He gets two signatures and three doors slammed on him after a roll of their eyes when they see who’s there and no one else answers. Instead of going upstairs to the fourth floor, Steve trots down to the second. Goes straight for 2B. He’s always kind enough to open up for him. As much as he’s willing, anyway. 

No different today. When Steve knocks, he can hear the person inside mute the television and come to the door. There’re more than the basic two locks to be unlocked for this place. Steve waits patiently as they all open and the door opens only as far as the chain will allow.

“Oh. Hey. Hey, Steve.”

“Hello, Sam.” Steve grins. Holds up his clipboard. “I was wondering if you could sign this for me? It’s a petition to the governor to help provide more and easier access to age-appropriate books for low-income neighborhoods and to help stock prisons and hospitals with more books as well and--”

“Sure, Steve.” Sam sticks only his hand out right up to his wrist and no further than that. “I’ll sign.” 

“Hey, thanks!” 

He gives the clipboard over and Sam takes it and pulls it in with him. Sam closes the door behind him. Another thing not so unusual. From what Steve knows of Sam Wilson, he hasn’t left his apartment in over a year. Steve’s not exactly sure what happened but before his reclusive ways, he used to see Sam on campus with his boyfriend, Riley, all the time. They were on the football team together and the wrestling team and they were always talking about some crazy thing they did over the weekend or had planned.

Not typical stupid college stuff. Sam and Riley weren’t going out getting drunk and throwing their stomachs up all weekend. They went bungee jumping and skydiving and cliff diving. Adrenaline junkies or something. Psychology majors who believed in both the power of science and also encouraging outdoor activity. 

Sam opens the door again and holds out the clipboard, now with his name signed neatly on the most recent line. 

“Thanks, Sam,” Steve says. “This is so great of you, I think maybe I can get all the signatures I need this time.”

“That’s good. I’m glad I could help. I should go.”

“Yeah, I get it. Thanks again!”

Steve doesn’t bother to wait. He knows Sam’s gonna lock up right behind him like he was never there to begin with.

~~~

The second Steve steps away from the door, Sam hurries to shut it and starts locking up. Turning this one and twisting that one and sliding the last. Illogical, he knows it. But the idea of that door opening any more than he wants it to just terrifies him. 

Once everything is locked up tight, Sam sighs and leans against the door, staring at the four same walls he’s stared at for months. At least in this day and age, it’s easier to get the things he needs without having to go out. Just the idea alone makes him queasy. He can get his groceries delivered and he does all his bills electronically and he can even take all his classes online. 

Sam’s not really sure why he’s still enrolled. He’s not exactly going to make a very good therapist if he can’t even leave his house. But his own therapist tells him it’s good that he as a goal. That his PTSD -- the condition which led to _this_ condition -- hasn’t wiped out his desire for a future. Sam guesses that’s something. 

Sitting back down on the couch, Sam unmutes the television and goes back to watching the cop drama he had on before Steve knocked. Little Steve Rogers. Not a bad guy. A little rough around the edges and always out for the… other little guys. 

Before everything went to shit, Sam remembers seeing the guy out and about a lot, always shouting for someone’s rights. Even if that meant getting his ass handed to him because he didn’t know when to shut up or back down. Guess Sam has to admire him for that. Against all odds, he’s never seen Steve give up. 

Sam sighs and picks up the framed picture on the end table next to him. The one of him and Riley right before they went scuba diving in Punta Cana. His fingers trail over Riley’s face. 

“I miss you,” he whispers. “So much.” 

That day flashes in his mind. Riley’s horrified face. His scream. The chute not opening correctly. All while Sam just watched. 

His pulse picks up and beads of sweat stick to his brow and his breathing gets heavy and labored. Sam shakes his head and drops the photo. He can’t do it. He doesn’t want to think about it.

Swapping frame for phone, Sam scrolls through the play store for anything new to do. At first, he sees nothing. Not that there would be, he was just there an hour ago. But then he hears the drums coming from an app. It’s one of those ‘make your own adventure games’. Sam clicks it.

“ _Welcome to the Jungle_ ,” Sam reads aloud. “Hm.” 

He scrolls through it a bit. Looks at the avatar selection. Decides he likes The Falcon. Skilled in hand-to-hand combat and has a winged powerjet with an array of weapons, oh, okay, that sounds cool. Skilled martial artist and gymnast. Limited control over birds? Ability to _see_ through the eyes of nearby birds.

Sam selects it. Only nothing happens. 

Just an error message that reads: **full team not selected for adventure to begin**

“Whatever,” Sam scoffs, tossing his phone on the couch and going back to the television again. 

~~~

On his way to Apartment 3F, Steve gets lucky and finds a great way to get himself another signature. The pizza guy who’s always coming through, Clint, is in the hall. He’s also bending down trying to pick up three boxes of pizzas that he’s dropped with his box to Steve. Perfect.

Quietly, Steve steps around him and picks up one of the boxes. He startles Clint -- Steve knows by the soft _god damn what the hell, Steve_ \-- and slips the clipboard right over it. 

“What’s this one for?” Clint asks, already picking up the pen and signing. “Ending cruelty toward lawn flamingos?”

Steve snorts. “Close. It’s actually to get books to people who need it.” 

Pen still against the paper, Clint stills his hand and slowly looks back up to Steve. He doesn’t move for a second before finishing. When he does, though, he keeps the clipboard. 

“Books, huh?” he questions. “Does that include braille and raised lettering? Audiobooks?”

“Braille and lettering?” Steve asks. “Audiobooks?”

“Well, yeah.” Clint nods and signs _yes_ with his hand. “Y’know, for blind kids? They need books, too, just like it’s good to have closed captions for people like… like…”

Him. That’s who Clint’s talking about. Clint has two hearing aids and almost total hearing loss without them in. Though Steve’s not that bad, he’s got almost thirty percent hearing loss out of his left ear. He’s learned a little bit of sign language. 

To give Clint credit, Steve had never really thought about books in braille. Which is a big oversight on his part. Everyone should have the chance to read, no matter the form. 

“Huh.” Steve nods to himself. “That’s a good idea. Sorry, I should’ve thought of that myself.” 

Clint shrugs and gives him a thumbs up. “That’s what I’m here for. All the best ideas. You gonna be calling me back here later?”

Already walking off, Steve waves over his shoulder and tells him he’s got no idea. There’s a frozen pizza in the freezer but some fresh might be good. 

~~~

Back at the pizza place, Clint sighs and slouches in a chair, hidden in the back. Stuffed in his back pocket are tonight’s tips, which aren’t much and not enough to get his bills paid. He hates the freaking job, but it’s one of the only ones he’s been able to get in the past year. That’s what happens after years of juvenile delinquency, he supposes. 

Petty theft. Vandalism. Fights. 

It’d just been him and his brother, Barney when he was growing up. That had sucked. Not that Barney wasn’t a great older brother. Really, he was. But not having their parents, well. As if Clint needed something else to make him stand out more. 

People look at him and he knows what they see. A slacker. A nobody. A good for nothing, lazy loser who drinks too much coffee and gets in trouble at work for feeding the strays behind the building. 

He’s trying to go straight now. After a six month stint in prison for boosting cars, Clint knew he needed to clean up his act. 

Now, he’s got himself a year’s parole and he really wants to do some good in this world. Go to school. Get himself a degree. Teaching is what he’s thinking. He still drinks too much coffee and feeds all the strays and never intends to stop. 

He’ll probably never be like that little Steve Rogers kid. Always fighting for some good cause, no matter how unwilling people are to listen to him. At least he tries. It’s actually cute. 

Leaned over a table with his head in his arms, Clint’s phone buzzes. Chin resting on the table now, Clint digs through his pocket and pulls it out. Sees he’s got a notification updating him about a new game. There’s a beating drum on his screen. Clint sighs and clicks it to see what it’s all about. 

“ _Welcome to the Jungle_ …”

~~~

After Clint leaves, Steve makes his way to apartment 3F. He doesn’t hesitate to knock like he knows other people might. Steve isn’t stupid. Well, maybe he is, but not about this. When he sees Natasha Romanoff, he doesn’t shake in his shoes or avoid eye contact or run the other way. In fact, Steve actually kinda likes her. 

She smirks at him whenever he comes to her place or when they happen to pass each other in the hall. They’d even been paired up for an assignment once in a shared class and they made a pretty decent team. While everyone else pointed and whispered behind their backs, Steve was happy to work with her. Natasha did her share of the work just like he did. They delivered their presentation and aced the assignment. 

Steve knows the rumors. They call her the Black Widow around these parts. Steve’s not sure if that’s something this place made up or if she came here with that moniker, but it’s because she supposedly killed her boyfriend. 

Again, Steve’s not stupid. He’s not just gonna assume she waited for this guy to come home and stuck an ice pick in his neck to collect the insurance money. While he doesn’t put much faith in the justice system -- too many men in blue beating up little kids of color and gay kids and trans kids and disabled kids for that -- he doubts very much that it would’ve been worth killing anyone just to end up in this shitty place. 

If Natasha did kill anyone, she must’ve had her reasons. Even if she didn’t, well, then Steve still liked her anyway. 

Steve has to knock on her door twice before getting an answer and when he does, she opens the door in a silky robe and with a towel holding her red hair back. There’s still a bit of moisture on her skin like she was still in the middle of drying when she tossed on her robe.

“Hello, Steve,” she greets. “What can I do for you today?”

She perches against the doorframe, as relaxed and comfortable as if she was completely dressed.

 

“Nat.” Steve nods at her. “Can I get your John Hancock today?”

“For?”

Steve’s not so sure it matters. She’s already holding her hand out to take the pen and clipboard. Natasha’s scrawling her name neatly across the line as he explains it to her. She smiles, impressed, he thinks, as she soaks it in. 

“Nice,” she says as she hands everything back. “I like the part about adding the audiobooks and raised letters and stuff.”

“Yeah. That was Clint’s idea.”

“The pizza guy?”

“Hm.” She smiles. “Well, till next time, Steve.” 

“Yep. Thanks, Nat.” 

She slips back inside and softly closes the door behind her as though no one had ever come out at all.

~~~

Natasha Romanoff likes Steve Rogers. She likes the way he looks at her. Like he’s not afraid of her. It’s refreshing. After two years of having most people, once they realize who she is, not trust her or fear her, it’s nice to have someone just… look at her as a person. 

Whether or not Steve Rogers knows who she really is, she’s not sure. The infamous Black Widow. Which makes absolutely no sense, if you ask her. She’d have to knock off a few more to get that nickname. Getting rid of one piece of shit, abusive boyfriend isn’t anything to freak out about.

The District Attorney made a huge deal about the restraining order they issued for her. That fabulous sheet of paper stating he couldn’t come within fifty feet of her that he shoved right in her face before wrapping his hands around her neck one last time. 

She’d sworn the last time he hurt her would _be_ the last time. Because that time was the time he’d gotten mad about god knows what and flung a frying pan of hot oil at her. She’s got the scars on her belly to prove it. Bye bye bikinis. 

It was her word against his, of course. Which didn’t count for much. She moved here from Russian when she was a child. He would claim that his ancestors helped build this country. She’d been working as an exotic dancer when they first met. He was a cop. A goddamn hero cop at that. Decorated. A do-gooder. If she called for help when he came home drunk and mad and mean, they talked to him, not her. 

No one else was going to help her. Natasha knew she was alone. If she wanted to make it out of the relationship alive, she had only one choice. When he tried to stuff the restraining order it took a year for her to get down her throat and he knocked her to the ground, Natasha was done. Absolutely done. 

Maybe the gun wasn’t legal, but she didn’t care. She was putting an end to her fear right then and there. No longer would she look over her shoulder when she walked down the street. She wouldn’t triple check every lock and window. Unknown numbers would be the same nuisance for her that they were everyone else. Just that. A simple nuisance. 

They never actually dragged her through a trial, at least. That didn’t mean her name hadn’t been dragged through the mud. 

She’d like to put the whole thing behind her. Move on with her life. That was the whole point of leaving Washington, D.C. and moving to Brooklyn to get her degree in Women’s Studies. It’s her hope to be an advocate for victims of domestic violence and hate crimes. 

For now, though, she lays down on her bed still wearing just her robe and grabs her tablet to pick up reading where she left off of the fic she’d been reading earlier. She’s only reading for a few minutes when an alert goes off informing her of a new game. 

~~~

Apartment 6H. Steve sighs as he approaches. Not because he knows this’ll be a waste of time. In fact, the occupant always opens the door as long as he’s home. With gusto. Too much for Steve’s taste. Still, if Steve’s gonna get a hundred signatures on this petition, he’s gotta do what he’s gotta do. Which means knocking on 6H’s door. 

Steve holds his breath after the knock. There’s music playing, so he knows someone’s inside. Even more so when it lowers. 

“Hang on,” he says. Steve can hear the chain unlinking and the locks unlocking. The door flies open. “Hey, Steve!” 

James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes stands there in the doorway with a big smile on his lips. He’s the only one in the building Steve’s known since before moving here. They went to P.S. 107 together way back when. Okay, maybe it wasn’t _that_ long ago, but Steve’s doing his best to forget about that period of his life and move on with it. Make a difference in the world. If only people would freaking listen or take him seriously every now and then instead of just passing by him or slamming the damn door in his face. 

“Hey, Bucky,” Steve greets. Tries to muster up some more enthusiasm since Bucky always signs for him, even if it is out of pity. “Did you know that, on average, every three hundred children in America only have one book between them?”

Eyebrows raising, Bucky opens his mouth like he’s going to respond, but it takes him a few tries before he actually does. He licks his bottom lick as though he’s come up several other responses before sticking with one of them.

“Is that right?” He shakes his head. Acts like he’s concerned about Steve’s newest crusade. If Steve didn’t know any better, he’d think he really was. “No, I didn’t.” 

“It’s true.” Steve hands him one of the fliers. “In lower-income homes, most families don’t have age-appropriate books and just having _five_ can increase a kid’s chance of getting into college by ten percent.”

“Ten percent, huh?”

Bucky props himself against the doorframe now and leans _just_ into Steve’s personal space as his eyes scan the flyer as if actually reading. Steve doubts it, but it’s nice to think someone isn’t just tossing it into the garbage. Recycling bin, hopefully. He has the slightest of urges to push Bucky away. This is something he’s seen him -- not to mention hundreds of other guys do -- a million times when they’re trying to pick someone up. Only it’s almost nice, the idea of someone -- especially Bucky -- actually wanting him.

“Yeah. So, I’m trying to raise awareness so that the school’ll hold a fundraiser for--”

“Hey, do you wanna come inside?” Bucky interrupts. Runs fingers through his hair. “I can make coffee and you can tell me more about this.” 

Sighing, Steve shakes his head. As much as he wants to -- and he does, he really, _truly_ does -- he just can’t. The crush he’s had on Bucky since he was a kid makes it impossible. Especially when Bucky doesn’t return his feelings and, worst of all, pities Steve. Before he really gets the chance to reject the offer, Bucky’s making another.

“Or tea, if you don’t like coffee? I have tea.”

“No, that’s okay. I really gotta get this done.”

“Well, I can…” Bucky takes a look at the list with only half the amount of signatures Steve needs. “I can help if you want. Do you want me to help?”

Always the same thing with him. In middle school, Bucky was always the first to volunteer to help Steve in school. From being his chaperone between classes whenever he broke a bone and needed the elevator to bringing him to the nurse for all the medications he needed in the afternoon. Sometimes, the nurse would have Steve lift his shirt up so that she could check his scoliosis. Steve would always flush bright red.

“Don’t worry, Steve,” Bucky would say. “I won’t tell no one.”

Steve always just rolled his eyes. 

Steve wishes things could just go back to the way the used to be. When they were little and just friends -- best friends, really. Before Bucky looked at him differently and must’ve suddenly seen what everyone else did. The short, skinny, sick kid that couldn’t do anything on his own. 

It’d been heartbreaking when Bucky had gone from goofing off with him as kids to treating him like a goddamn piece of glass when they got older. Like he’d break if Bucky breathed on him wrong. The pity was too much to handle. Especially with how strongly he felt about Bucky. 

Steve never really thought Bucky would _actually_ date him -- why would he when he could have anyone he wanted -- but he did enjoy entertaining the notion. Out of most of the people they knew, Bucky was the one who treated him like an equal the most. But for some reason, Steve stopped being good enough for Bucky just the way he was and didn’t fit into his perfect life anymore.

Even when they were in high school together. Guy would go from being Mr. Popular -- liked by everyone, wrapped in his own bubble of popularity -- to fussing over Steve like he was some sort of little kid who needed a babysitter. 

Steve rubs his eyes under his glasses. “No, Bucky, I don’t need your help.” 

Besides, the few times Steve did accept his help, Bucky ended up trying to take over within the hour anyway. As though Steve had been doing it wrong the entire time. Just more heartache. Steve will never be the perfection that Bucky wants in his life. 

“But I--”

“Please?” Steve asks. Holds the clipboard out for Bucky. “If you wanna help me, this is the best way. Besides...” Steve stands up on his toes and looks over Bucky’s shoulder and surprise, surprise. Sure enough, there’s a girl in his place. Steve swallows the rock in his throat. “Looks to me like you’ve got company.” 

A disappointed, albeit, guilty, expression passes over Bucky’s face. Steve’s not sure why. It’s not as though they’re best friends forever anymore. Acquaintances, at most. Hi and bye in the hallway. Steve _may_ have been cool by association, but not in the same circle as Bucky. Why Bucky ever fussed over him in the first place still remains a mystery to Steve. And a chip on his shoulder. He didn’t then and _still_ doesn’t need someone to take care of him. He can get by on his own.

“O-oh. Um.” Bucky nods. Once. Then twice. “Okay. Yeah. Yeah, okay. Sorry.”

He takes the pen from Steve and signs while Steve holds the clipboard for him. 

“Thanks, Bucky.”

“Sure thing, Steve,” he says. “If you, uh, if you change your mind just let me know. I’m not… I’m not doing anything. Later.”

“Okay. And, y’know, thanks. For the invite and all.”

A smile brightens Bucky’s face. Steve needs to catch his breathing. He’ll never get over how fucking beautiful Bucky is. That smile alone is worth a million dollars. Someone should really see about putting one on him every minute of every day. Steve pushes back tears, knowing it’ll never be him. 

“Sure thing, Steve.”

Steve waves over his shoulder. “See ya ‘round, Bucky.”

~~~

Bucky waits until Steve rounds the corner before closing the door with a sigh. Stupid, really. He doesn’t know why he keeps trying with skinny, little Steve Rogers. Once upon a time ago, he and Steve were the best of friends. From playdates to sleepovers to stickball in the streets. Back then, they were inseparable. Bucky thought they’d be together forever.

Then junior high happened. 

And everything changed.

He thought, back then, that it was just a crush. Bucky’d never had feelings for a boy. Seeing Steve made him wonder if that made him gay, even though he’d always -- and still did -- like girls. Years later, he learned about bisexuality. And then pansexuality, too.

No matter what label he does or doesn’t throw on himself, Bucky’s sure of one thing. He’s had a thing for Steve Rogers since junior high. He makes him crazy. Insides turning to mush. Mind spinning. World shaking beneath his feet. 

But having feelings for Steve made everything different. Bucky was suddenly painfully aware of all the dangers in Steve’s life. His asthma and bad heart and so many allergies. And that was just some of it. 

Not that Steve couldn’t take care of himself, Bucky knew that he could, but he also wanted to be the one Steve could depend on. He never wanted him to think he was alone. To be hurting. To be in pain. So Bucky always offered his help to him. Only Steve started to get mad and distant from Bucky when he did. 

For as far back as Bucky can remember, Steve was always getting into a scrap of some kind. Whether that meant some asshole messed with him or some asshole messed with someone else. 

Steve just never knew how to back down. Never knew how to keep his mouth shut. Which often led to him getting his ass handed to him. Even _then_ , if Bucky tried to step in and help, Steve would just get angry.

“I had ‘im on the ropes,” he’d say. Or, “I could do this all day.”

It didn’t matter how badly he was hurt or how out-matched he was, Steve insisted he hadn’t needed Bucky’s help. Then he’d storm off, all red-faced and fists still clenched and jaw tight. As though Bucky interfering was the worst thing he could’ve possibly done. Sometimes, Bucky wondered if Steve _liked_ getting punched.

They drifted apart near the end of middle school despite Bucky’s best efforts to stay close. Kinda hard when the guy rejected every attempt Bucky ever made on him. From asking him to grab a slice of pizza with friends after school in junior high to being turned down as his date for prom.

No matter what Bucky did -- whether it was offering to be Steve’s escort or coming to his aid when he got into yet another fight or asking him to go out on the weekend -- Steve, apparently, wanted very little to do with him after that. He’ll barely even be friends with him anymore.

“James?”

Bucky, still standing against the door, flicks his eyes at the girl sitting on his couch. Katie, her name is. A Senior in high school whose parents pay him to tutor her in math once a week. Luciana and Simon and Jonathan also come for math. Then there’s Sarah and Melissa, for history and Li mei and Nancy in science. 

“Yeah, I’m coming, Katie.” He sits back down next to her and pulls her textbook closer. “Let's see, where were we?” Bucky clears his throat. “Right. First, we need to factor out all constants which evenly divide all three terms…”

This keeps him busy, but it’s better than having to go out and finding himself a conventional job. In the two and a half years he’s been in college, he’s changed his majors eight times. Started with engineering. Somewhere in there was English. He considered working towards a career in the FBI for a few weeks before going back to his advisor and changing that to Marine Biology. At the moment, he’s working towards a degree in Sociology.

Since he was sixteen he worked twelve different jobs. Not because he lost them. Because he lost interest in them. He’s worked in fast food and as a waiter. In a pharmacy and a department store and a mechanic’s garage. He has emergency medical training from when he thought he’d be a paramedic. 

Not that it’ll impress his parents. He’s basically become the invisible child ever since he was fifteen and turned down his father’s idea to join the family firm and make it Barnes and Barnes. The idea of practicing corporate law made Bucky’s skin crawl back then and it still does today. 

Bucky’s sister, on the other hand, is their little superstar. Graduated with aspirations to live out their father’s dreams of having an heir to carry out his legacy. Well, at least Bucky can’t say the man’s guilty of being sexist. 

If he could just figure out something _good_ enough for them then maybe _he’ll_ be good enough again. Hard to make that happen, though, when _nothing_ is ever good enough. He graduates high school with honors? His sister is valedictorian. He gets into NYU? His sister gets a scholarship to Harvard. He tutors? She gets a job at one of the most prestigious law firms in Boston. 

They still ask him about his plans for the future. Always with that sense of disappointment in the back of their voices. Well, his father mostly. His mother, he thinks, might support him. Maybe. But still, they ask. Why doesn’t he have any direction? If he won’t _live up to his responsibilities_ \-- as his father so kindly puts it -- then what will he do? _Choose_ something. 

But therein lies the problem. 

Bucky doesn’t know how to choose. If he chooses wrong, it could mess up the trajectory of the rest of his life. If he chooses wrong, he could make a total fool of himself. If he chooses wrong, he could lose everything. He’ll be the failure in the family. 

 

While Katie works on the problem he’s written out for her, Bucky has to keep himself busy while she does it. Sometimes -- most times -- it’s too difficult not to jump in and do it for her. He looks at that new app he downloaded earlier, but it still says the same thing.

**Full team not selected for adventure to begin**

~~~

By the time Steve is finished going through the whole building, he’s just shy of what he needs by twelve signatures. Annoyed, he tosses the clipboard onto his table and then collapses onto the couch. Outside, the storm storms on. Lightning flashes. Thunder claps hard enough that Steve’s damn sure the building shakes. 

Just looking at the rain that splatters against the window makes Steve shiver. He’s had a lousy day and a lousy week and a lousy everything. All he wants to do is wrap himself up in a cozy blanket with a mug full of warm tea curled up in front of a roaring fire preferably not alone. Those last two wishes are hard to come by in these parts. He doesn’t have a fireplace and the only one willing to cozy up next to him, he’s sure, is Bucky Barnes one floor above him and Steve isn’t about to take any pity-cuddles. Though he has to admit, the thought of being wrapped up in Bucky’s arms is incredible. That’s impossible, though, and Steve knows it.

Tears burn in his eyes. Just once he’d like for someone to see him for who he is on the inside. He doesn’t want to have to “lower his standards” as some people say. Steve just wants to be loved for being him. Cracks and all. 

Sighing, Steve picks himself up and trudges into the kitchen. He might not get to sit in front of a fireplace with someone, but he can at least make himself a nice cup of tea. Well. A cup of tea, anyway. 

Just as he goes to light the burner of his electric stove, however, a bolt of lightning flashes bright and powerful outside, lighting up the whole sky. There’s a boom outside. Car alarms start blaring. And all the electricity in the building goes off. 

“Oh, you’ve _got_ to be kidding me,” Steve grumbles, hand still on the knob of his stove. “Thank you. Thank you _very_ much.” 

It’s still _just_ early enough out that a little bit of light trickles in through the window. That provides Steve with enough illumination to rummage his kitchen drawers, looking for the few candles and one flashlight he’s got in there. Out in the hall, a few people are chatting. Probably to see if everyone’s lost power. From what he can hear, the answer is yes. The whole building is out. 

Well, he thinks as he sets out the whole four candles on the coffee table in the living room. I wanted a fire.

Steve sits there for a few minutes just watching the little flames dancing around on their wicks and wishes he had marshmallows. That might makes this a little more entertaining. It’s not like he can read in this light. Not with his eyesight. 

Maybe he can try his phone. 

“Hm,” he grunts. “Seventy percent.”

He shakes his head and decides it’s better to maybe save that battery power for later. Steve grabs the flashlight and goes to his bedroom for his laptop. That, at least, is fully charged. He can throw on a movie. 

While he’s looking for something to put on, Steve leaves the computer over on the couch. He’s just crouched down to pull a Blu-ray out when he hears the drums. Steve freezes. Head turning towards the couch, the drumming stops. He scoffs a chuckles a rubs a finger in his ear.

“Calm down, Steve,” he says to himself. “It was just something outside.”

Only the drumming starts again the second his attention is back on the movie in his hands. Eyes closing, Steve rises to his feet and slowly makes his way back to the couch. Dropping the Blu-ray on the cushion -- or trying to and, instead, dropping it onto the floor -- Steve sits and pulls the computer onto his lap. 

There’s got to be some logical explanation for this. For the drumming that’s coming from his laptop. A music program that he left running or something. 

Holding his breath, Steve slowly lifts his computer open and the second his eyes land and the tab that reads _Welcome to the Jungle_ all the drumming comes to a stop. For the life of him, Steve can’t remember opening this. And it shouldn’t be running at all. Steve checks just to make sure and, yep, he’s got no internet connection. 

He looks back at the page. Looks like the homepage of some game. Maybe a choose your own adventure sort of deal.

“A game for those who seek to find a way to leave their world behind,” he reads. “Adventurers beware, this game is not for the weak at heart, only begin if you intend to finish what you start.” Steve scoffs. “ _Okay_.” 

He turns his attention to the avatars available only it looks like most of them have already been selected. Steve scoffs when he sees that there’s only one playable female character. Only one character of color, too. Typical. 

Actually, no. When he scrolls to the next screen, it looks like there might be another team, fully selected. And they also have female and character of color avatars. So, woopie. A whole _two_ female and characters color. How progressive. 

Back at the homepage, Steve looks at these characters. The Falcon, Hawkeye, Black Widow, and The Winter Soldier. The only available one is Captain America. 

“A supersoldier,” Steve reads. “Notable abilities: peak human strength, speed, durability, agility, reflexes, senses, and mental processing, hand-to-hand combatant, accelerated healing, strategist, wields vibranium shield. Team Leader, a seeker of justice for all those around him.”

Groaning, Steve rubs under his glasses and wonders if this game is actually trying to mock him. Or if someone sent it to him as a cruel joke. Probably the latter. Ha ha. Very funny. Everything he isn’t then topped off with everything they wish he wasn’t. 

Yeah, well, he’ll show them. 

Wiping away the one tear that crawls down his check, Steve pulls his legs up and crosses them into a pretzel on the cushion. He yanks the blanket he’s got with him over his head and puts the laptop on the cushion next to him. He’s gonna play this thing and he’s gonna beat it in record time. They’ll see how funny it is then. 

He moves his cursor over to Captain America and selects it. 

A little box comes up then, asking for confirmation.

**Are you sure you wish to continue?**

**Yes or No**

“Oh my god.” Steve sighs. “Yes.”

**Enjoy your adventure**

“Yeah, tha--holy shit!”

 


	2. In Which There is No Proper Way to React When Video Games Attack

The light that flashes out of Steve’s computers is so bright it hurts his eyes. It hurts his eyes so badly he’s almost certain he’s going to have to go to the doctor. From somewhere else in the building, he can hear a scream. Something crashes. Something breaks. But he can’t _see_ anything. 

He can feel, though. He can feel wind rushing all around and can only assume that the window has broken open and lightning must’ve flashed right outside it. This storm must be something awful to’ve done something like that. 

Steve hits the floor. He assumes. That must be it. In all the confusion he had to have fallen off the couch. The blanket probably came with him, that explains what’s soft and lumpy beneath his hands. And the lights must’ve come back on. It’s the only explanation to why it’s so bright behind Steve’s eyelids. 

Hand out for the couch so he can use it for support, Steve grabs nothing but air. He crawls a little on hands and knees, eyes still squeezed shut, though, he isn’t sure why he does this. His eyes no longer bother him and he can just easily stand on his own. 

“Hello? Hello--is… is anyone there?”

Steve’s eyes snap open. His first thought is danger. Not for him, but someone else. Someone is calling out and they’re nearby. So close, in fact, they’re likely standing in the doorway of his place. His second thought, which hits him a heartbeat after his first, is incomprehensible. Because it doesn’t make any sense. Because he must be dreaming. Because when he fell off the couch he must’ve knocked himself unconscious or something. 

Those’re the only things that make sense because _this_ doesn’t make sense. Steve picks himself up to his feet. He’s standing in a jungle. Big trees full of big, thick leaves. Hot, humid air all around him. Dirt beneath him. Bugs. Birds. A river, he thinks, behind him. There are thick patches of grass and shrubs and big flowers. Steve thinks that maybe he should sneeze or feel sick or something since this place should be making his allergies go berserk. 

Of course, they’re not going nuts, this can’t be real. He’s gotta be dreaming. No way he rolled off the couch and ended up in a jungle. 

“Hello?!”

Someone shouts again. Sounds like they’re somewhere across the field. Steve takes off in that direction. Right over the small hill in front of him is a broad-shouldered man with shaggy brown hair and a… a… is that _metal_ arm? 

“Hey!” Steve shouts. “Hey, over he--Bucky?”

His hair is different and he’s beefy as fuck and he’s dressed like he’s going to an S&M club after dark and he’s got a metal arm, but that’s definitely Bucky. Steve would recognize those eyes anywhere. 

“Oh my god.” Steve breathes out a sigh of relief. He might not have _any_ clue what the hell is going on here, but at least there’s a familiar face. “Bucky, thank god you’re here, too.”

Only instead of smiling or greeting him in any way, Bucky snaps his gaze up and, when he sees Steve walking towards him, he immediately starts backpedaling.

“Whoa, whoa,” he says. “I don’t want any trouble.”

“What? Trouble? Bucky, it… it’s me. Steve.” 

Bucky freezes. Eyes growing wide, he then squints like he’s having trouble seeing him properly. 

“St-Steve?” He shakes his head. “I thought… you were smaller.” 

“What?”

Steve holds his palms out in front of him to see what the hell he’s going on about. Sure enough, he’s actually buff. No, like, he’s really spectacularly buff. And he’s wearing some kind of protective suit. 

“Steve, what the hell is going on?”

“I don’t know. What’s the last thing you remember?”

Before he can answer that, someone is calling for their attention. 

“Hey! Hey, over here!”

They both glance over and see the unmistakable flash of red hair breaking through the trees. Natasha’s here, too. She’s running towards them wearing a black catsuit. Looks like there’s a utility belt around her waist. Well, at least she’s not having to run around half-naked. 

“Natasha?” Bucky asks. “Is that you?”

“Yeah, yeah, no time for that.” She grabs them both by the wrist. “This way, come on.” 

She drags them back the way they came and the reason for her urgency becomes clear the second they get there. 

Though he’s dressed in some crazy jetpack get up on his back and goggles on his head and some sort of control panel thing on his arm, Sam is with them, as well. He’s got his hands pressed against his brow and he’s trembling all over. 

Steve looks around. Of course. Sam rarely leaves his place. This is probably freaking him out even more than it is everyone else. And that’s saying something considering they are most _definitely_ not in Kansas anymore. 

“I can’t be having some breakdown,” Sam is muttering. “Why would my neighbors and the pizza guy be here?”

Pizza guy? Did that mean Clint? Steve goes to ask either Bucky or Natasha if they’ve seen him, but Natasha says she’s on it before he has the chance. 

“Sam?” Steve says, softly. “Sam, it’s okay.”

“No, no!” Sam waves him away. “I’m not talking to a hallucination!” 

“But… you just said we _weren’t_ hallucinations.” 

Sam sighs and looks at him with a very done and disgruntled expression. He even holds a finger up like he might start scolding him. 

“So then how do _you_ explain it, Steve?” Sam asks. “Why else would I be in this… this…” He starts breathing funny. Like he can’t get the right amount of air in. “In this… open… f-field.”

Maybe he’s having a panic attack. Oh, that’s not good. 

“Okay, Sam, why don’t you sit down. Maybe put your head between your knees?” 

“No, no.” He shakes his head and grabs his chest. “I need a…”

Before he can complete his statement, a list of some sort is projected in the air in front of him. 

“Shit!” Sam yells. “What the fuck is that? What is that?”

“Whoa, whoa, wait a second, look at that!” Steve points to the very first thing on top of the list. “See that, The Falcon. I recognize that. It was a--”

“Oh no, _fuck_ that.” Sam waves his hands in the air. Shakes his head. “You are _not_ telling me that I got sucked into some internet game.”

Steve pauses. “Then you… did you see the game, too? Did you select Falcon as your character?” When Sam only looks at him, Steve says, “I selected Captain America.” 

Off to the side, Natasha is now returning and, sure enough, Clint is with her. Both of them look like the avatars The Black Widow and Hawkeye. Bucky looks like the Winter Soldier. Holy shit. This cannot be happening. It makes zero sense. 

Steve’s heard of a collective hallucination before, but, come on now, this is just some kind of ridiculous. Now that Natasha has returned, she’s pointing to the projection floating in mid-air. Among it, is a section of weaknesses. It reads: fresh grief and fear of flying. 

Odd. Steve wouldn’t think that the character with the jetpack would have a fear of flying.

“Sam?” Steve says. “Select the one that says _items_. See what happens.”

“You want me to _touch_ one of those things?”

“Well,” Natasha says, “We gotta try something.”

Sighing, Sam shakes his head and does as Steve requested. He reaches out and lets his fingers just graze along the items button. Sure enough, the screen in front of them changes. It’s empty save for one thing. A paper bag. 

“Is that what you needed?” Steve asks. “A paper bag?”

“Holy shit, man,” Sam breathes. “You’re right.”

“We’re… we’re in the game,” Steve murmurs. “That’s the only explanation.”

“The _game_?” Clint, who apparently got all tangled up in some branches, exclaims. “What do you _mean_ we’re in the _game_? _What_ game?”

It doesn’t take them long to figure out which one. They all downloaded the same app not all that long before this happened. One by one, they selected avatars, each of them joining the party until the last one, Steve, made it complete. Whatever the hell this is, they’ve been sucked into some shit like none of them have ever seen before. 

For a long while, no one says anything. They’re all just standing there, staring at everything or nothing or each other. Every now and then someone mumbles something. Maybe a prayer. Maybe a swear. Clint hops up and down like that’ll somehow change something. Natasha shakes her head over and over. Sam tries to steady his breathing. Bucky… well… fuck, Bucky is the actually the worst.

“Holy shit!” Bucky paces across the grass, his fingers pulling at his hair. “I can’t believe this. I can’t… this can’t be happening.” 

The panic in his voice rings out clear across the meadow. There’s a pretty good chance the lightning flashing through the dark clouds over the purple mountains in the distance is a reaction to it.

“Steve,” Natasha murmurs, “he’s… really freaked out.” 

Steve tears his eyes away from Bucky to look back at Natasha. There’re gauntlets around her wrists too, but she’s staring at them like they terrify her. 

Around Steve, everyone stares, wide-eyed and shocked and horrified, at whatever their new… bodies… or… avatars… or… whatever has made them look like. Or brought to them. 

Clint is busy checking out his arms and turning in circles trying to get a good look at the quiver filled with arrows clipped to his back. The compound bow over his shoulder doesn’t even sway. Sam keeps reaching behind him. Probably attempting to figure out how the hell the pack on his back works. But no one, not one of them, is panicking the way Bucky is. And while Steve’s gained more than a foot of height and a hundred something pounds and muscles like Dwayne “the Rock” Johnson -- with some weird round thing on his back -- Bucky’s the one who’s got a metal arm and weapons coming out the ass.

Okay. Okay, Steve can handle this. He can. He picked Captain America. _Captain_. A leader. Steve can totally be a leader. He steps closer to Bucky. Holds a hand out, but doesn’t quite touch him.

“Hey,” he murmurs. “Hey, Bucky, it’s… Bucky, it’s going to be okay.” Bucky stops his pacing and stares at him. “Look, we’re all freaked out, but we’re gonna figure it out. I promise you--”

“Look at my hair!” he yells. “What the hell happened to my hair?”

“--we’re gonna-wait, what?” Steve shakes his head. Lip curled up in wild confusion. “Your _hair_? That’s what you’re flipping out about?”

“Well, just… just…” He pulls at it again. “Look at it! It’s all… _long_! And, like, shaggy!”

“Come on, _man_ , priorities!” Steve exclaims. “You have a metal arm!”

Lifting the arm in question, Bucky shrugs like that means nothing at all. 

“No, _this_ is _awesome_. This is the best prosthetic I’ve ever had.” He maneuvers his arm this way and that, twisting and turning and waving it up and down. He then tugs at his hair again. “But this? What’m I gonna do with _this_? Seriously!”

He begins to fuss with it then. Combing his fingers through it and trying to style it. Bucky shakes it out and then tries to look at it in the reflection of his arm. 

“Seriously?” Steve deadpans. “What matters, right now, is your hair. _That’s_ the most important thing in this scenario.” 

Eyes flicking to him, Bucky makes a face at Steve as though _he’s_ the weird one for questioning the way he lists his priorities. Though Steve would think that he’d be more concerned about waking up in a new body than making sure his _hair_ looks perfect, but, then again, what does Bucky know outside his own little bubble of perfection. 

“All right, all right.” Natasha steps up to them. “We need to start figuring out what to do here.” 

“Well, if we’re in a _game_ …” Clint suggests. “Doesn’t that mean we should, I dunno, _play_ the game?”

That probably makes the most sense. Too bad this game hasn’t exactly come with a set of written instructions. Just a transportation into an alternate reality. 

“Hey, that’s a good idea,” Sam says. “Who here’s a gamer? Anyone?”

“You mean…” Clint says, “you’re not?”

Sam crinkles his nose. “No? Why would you think that?”

Clint hesitates. He looks at everyone else as though they can offer some help to his assumption. No luck, though. Steve’s aware that something happened to Sam that he now keeps himself locked away from the world, but that doesn’t automatically make him a gamer. 

“Well, just, uh…” Clint scratches the back of his neck. “What, um… else do you do? All day?”

Everyone falls silent. Clint flushes and looks away as Sam tries to say something about therapy and classes. 

“I am,” Natasha says at the same time Steve’s lifting his arm up in the air, both sparing Sam from having to explain any further. “First thing we should probably do is check our stats and stuff.” 

Now that they know how to pull those up, they each tap their hearts and the screens immediately fly up again so they can read each other's stats.

**The Falcon:**

Strengths

-Hand-to-hand combatant 

-Flight via wing harness

-Skilled martial artist and gymnast

-Limited control over birds

-Ability to see through the eyes of birds

Weaknesses

-Fresh Grief

-Fear of Flying 

 

**The Black Widow:**

Strengths

-Skilled tactician 

-Skilled martial artist 

-Master of various weapons

-Via gauntlets: grappling hooks, knock out gas, explosives 

Weaknesses

-Untrusting 

-Deceptive 

**Hawkeye:**

Strengths:

-Master marksman and archer

-Durability 

-Hand-to-hand combatant 

-Use of a variety of trick hours

Weaknesses

-Low self-worth

-Overcompensation

**The Winter Soldier:**

Strengths:

-Superhuman strength 

-Advanced scout

-Excellent marksman

-Excellent use of military weapons and throwing knives

-Advanced reaction time

Weaknesses

-Indecisive 

-Perfectionist 

**Captain America:**

Strengths:

-Superhuman strength and speed

-Strategist 

-Durability

-Accelerated agility, reflexes, senses, healing and mental processing

-Hand-to-hand combatant

Weaknesses

-Stubborn 

-Low self-esteem

Steve crinkles his nose at those weaknesses, taking personal offense to the ones on his list. Stupid game. What does it know?

“Okay, now what?” Clint asks. “So, I can shoot nifty arrows and Bucky can’t make decisions--”

“Hey!”

“--how does that help us figure out what to do next?” 

Glancing around again, there really isn’t much in the vicinity to answer that question. 

“Well, if it’s like any other video game...” Steve scratches his head. “Normally, this would be, like, the startup level. Something should be here to give us the main objective of the game. Then every level should get harder as we go along.” 

Everyone else now looks around the way he did a second ago. Like him, they come up empty. 

“How’re we supposed to know what the game wants us to do?” Sam asks. “There’s nothing _here_.” 

Before Steve can respond, something grabs him by the neck and tightens. Same with Bucky. A snake. A big, long, bone-crushing snake that’s currently wrapping around them both tighter and tighter in its grip. Steve pushes against its strength. Back to back with Bucky, he can feel Bucky doing the same. He can even hear Bucky’s metal arm making noises as it recalibrates from the new strain. 

Beyond them, Steve can just make out the others scrambling to do something. Bullets whiz by. An arrow or two. The snake hisses and jerks about, even with Steve and Bucky trapped. 

“Bucky,” Steve manages to say. “Can you breathe?”

Bucky nods. “A little, yeah.” 

Less than Steve, then. Steve takes another gulp of breath and starts sliding his hand behind him. He’s wiggled his fingers just enough that his fingertips have just reached the hilt of the knife Steve remembers Bucky having.

“You’ve got a knife,” he says. “I’m gonna try to get it.” 

“Hang on, hang on, I’ve got a better idea.” 

“No, but--”

Bucky twists, and suddenly the knife is no longer within Steve’s reach. The squirming behind him continues. The snake coils tighter. 

“Just a little further…” Bucky grunts as they’re slammed down once more.

“Damn it, Bucky.” Steve pushes back against the snake some more. “I almost _had_ it!”

“No, no, it’s…” Bucky gags. “I got… I got it…”

The knife that Steve had almost gotten hold of with his left hand is now being thrust into his right hand. Teeth grinding, Steve shoves the blade into the snake and cuts through it. It whirls back and starts to unravel. They fall back to the dirt and find that the snake has two more knives shoved in it and three arrows in its head before it shakes them all out and gives them the deadliest glare Steve’s ever seen. The snake. Steve _swears_ the snake is actually glaring at them before it slithers back into the trees. 

“Did we just take down a _snake_?!” Sam exclaims. “Is that what just happened?”

“What the hell was that?” Clint asks. “That had to be an anaconda or something.” 

“Mm-mm.” Bucky’s covering a wound on his arm. “Reticulated python. You can tell by the color palettes and irregular diamond pattern.” 

“Jesus, James.” Natasha, so far as Steve knows, is the only one who ever calls Bucky by his real name. He has no idea why. Maybe they slept together once or twice. The idea makes his heart behave strangely. “Did you get bit?”

She’s right. There’s blood on Bucky’s arm, but when he moves his metal hand away it’s mostly, well, Steve’s no doctor, but he has played video games before, and he’d say that’s just a flesh wound. 

“Don’t worry,” Bucky says. “Pythons are non-venomous.” 

“So no one’s gotta suck any venom outta you?” Clint asks.

“That’s just a myth, Barton,” Sam replies. “You can’t really do that.”

“Can too! I saw it on this show once…”

As they go on bickering over the accuracies of being able to suck the poison out of someone’s body -- Steve’s fairly sure Sam’s right and it isn’t true -- Steve glares at Bucky. At the moment, with the guy’s one flesh arm all covered in his own blood, he doesn’t have the heart to say anything, but all he wants to do is scream at him.

He nearly _had_ the knife in his hand before and _Bucky_ went screwed it all up just because he needed to do it _his_ way. If it wasn’t for the others, Steve’s pretty fucking sure they’d both be dead right now. All because Bucky’s need to be in control. 

See, _this_ is the reason Steve can’t trust the guy. Can’t be friends with him or accept his help. Because Bucky obviously doesn’t trust him. And that cracks Steve’s heart right in half.

“What?” Bucky asks when he notices Steve looking at him. “Why’re you looking at me like that?”

Steve opens his mouth to say something -- _anything_ \-- until he hears rustling in the tree above them. Across from him, Natasha is already looking up at the branches. Steve follows her gaze. 

A few leaves spiral down to the ground. Nothing else makes a sound. Steve shudders under the weight of this realization. No animals are making noises. No birds are flying. Other than the rustling in the trees, most of this place has gone still and quiet. 

“Um… guys?” Natasha says.

Her voice catches Bucky’s attention first. He’s been blotting the wound on his arm. When he locks eyes with Steve, Steve glances back up, only assuming Bucky does the same. Which he must since he asks the next obvious question.

“What…” He stutters a bit. “What the hell is that?” 

Clint and Sam now follow in suit. No longer arguing, they all stare up at the branches trying to figure out what’s happening. When two snake heads lower out of the leaves, Bucky screams -- loud and high-pitched. 

“Come on!” Sam shouts. “Let’s go!”

More and more snakes pop out of the trees at the run. Some jump at them from the bushes. All that matters is that dozens and dozens of snakes are now chasing them through this freaking jungle.

Only they don’t have to run very far. As soon as they reach a bit of clearing through the trees, a jeep bursts from the bushes and abruptly breaks right in front of them. Inside is a bald black man with an eye patch. He shouts at them to hurry and get in.

Not needing to be told twice, Steve runs around to the passenger side as the rest of them pile into the back. The man is peeling out of there before the doors even shut. 

“Holy shit.” Steve pants and takes a look out the back. The snakes are no longer following. “Thank you.”

“Captain America,” the man says, “The world’s greatest super soldier, we meet at last. Welcome to Jumanji.” 

“Uh, yeah, I--”

“I gotta say, we’ve waited a long time for you to get here.”

“We?” Bucky asks. “Who’s we?”

Without turning around to look at him or even glancing in the rearview mirror, the man chuckles.

“The Winter Soldier, Cap’s best friend from playground to battlefield, good to have you on this mission, too. Welcome to Jumanji.” 

“I’m sorry,” Bucky says, “what?”

“Everyone knows the two of you are damn near inseparable,” the man goes on to say. “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised you showed up together.”

“Man, what the hell are you talking about?” Sam asks.

Him, the man does look at. “Ah, The Falcon, best airman the armed forces ever had and willing to carry the burden of Cap’s shield when the world needs it to. Welcome to Jumanji.”

Shield. Right, that must be the thing on Steve’s back. Must be something important if other people are _burdened_ with it. 

Eyes flicking between Natasha and Clint, the man says, “If anyone could track you down it’d be my two best operatives Hawkeye and The Black Widow.” 

“What’s with this guy?” Clint mutters. 

“I think…” Steve watches the man as he drives. “I think he’s an NPC.”

Bucky leans forward. “A what?”

“Non-Player Character,” Natasha explains. “It’s a character run by the game’s AI not the player. Usually helps with plot or to give key information or items, stuff like that.”

“Oh, yeah, okay.” Sam crosses his arms. “Of course.”

Steve turns back to the driver. He knows NPCs only respond to certain questions or phrases. Only get to say certain things. 

“Uh, sir, what’s--”

“You got here just in time,” he interrupts. “This curse is getting out of hand.”

“Curse?”

“Excuse me, but,” Bucky says, leaning forward once again, “are you gonna tell us how to get out of here, because I have a lot of things I have to do.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Can we go back to the part where he said _curse_?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Bucky replies. “I didn’t plan to spend my entire night being stuck in a freaking video game.”

“Right, like I expected--”

“Anyway,” Natasha steps in. She gestures to the man. “Steve? Could you?”

“Right, um…” Steve gets out a nervous laugh. “Can you explain a little bit about this curse?”

“It’s all in the letter I sent you,” he tells him.

“Letter?” Steve checks for someplace he could possibly have a letter. “I don’t have any letter.”

“Check your items, Steve,” Natasha suggests. 

Good idea. Steve presses that spot on his chest and sure enough, in the items list now, a letter is listed. Steve clicks on it and envelope appears in his hand. Okay. He pulls the letter out.

“Dear Captain America,” Steve reads aloud, “I’m writing to you regarding the desperate situation in Jumanji. We need your team’s help. My name is Nick Fury, Director of SHIELD…” 

The world around them ripples and fades away as though they’ve all fallen asleep and are having the exact same dream.

“What the hell is this?” Bucky asks. “What’s happening now?”

“I think…” Natasha says. “I think this is a cutscene. A lot of games have them, it’s like a little movie to tell you the backstory.”

What they’re seeing is a bunch of men moving through the jungles of Jumanji. An expedition of some sort. Men with their machetes slicing through leaves and vines and branches. Several jeeps running over the rest of what’s in the way to make an even better path. 

As they watch, Nick’s voice plays over the scene, explaining what it is they’re watching. 

“For several years now,” he says, “SHIELD has been monitoring the activities of one Johann Schmidt, leader of Hydra, a magic and science terrorist organization hellbent on gaining control over all of Jumanji.”

The scene cuts again and out of the first jeep steps a man with a fierce, determined expression on his face as he looks from a map and back up to the land around him. 

“Recently, Schmidt has been in search of the Tesseract, one of the fabled jewels of Odin. That jewel became his obsession and, though it’d been hidden well for centuries, I’m sorry to report that after years of research he discovered its whereabouts and stole it for himself. What he could not expect, were the side effects.”

Once again the scene changes. This time, they all watch as this Johann Schmidt character reaches into a stone box in some hidden cave atop a mountain -- because _of course,_ it’d be in a hidden cave atop a mountain. A bright, blue cone of light flashes all around him and Schmidt is completely engulfed by it, screaming as he is. 

All his men back away, some of them fleeing, others preparing for the worst, while a few just ready for whatever’s to come. 

When the light disappears as suddenly as it appeared, Schmidt is on his knees with his hands over his face. He’s panting. Trembling. The Tesseract sits on the floor in front of him. He lowers his hands. The men gasp. Steve gasps. He has no doubt the rest of them do as well. 

Schmidt’s face has completely melted off. No hair. No nose. No skin. Just pure, blood red staring back at everyone. 

“Legend tells that Odin watches over Jumanji,” Nick continues, “and anyone that steals his sight will be cursed will a dark power.”

Schmidt comes back down the mountain and as he does, darkness descends over Jumanji. Clouds roll through the skies. Thunder claps and lightning bolts crash everywhere. Grass browns as bugs and snakes and rodents come towards Schmidt. 

“Schmidt, who we now refer to as _the Red Skull_ , assumed dominion over Jumanji and all the creatures in it, possessing them, _controlling_ them. And a terrible curse spread across this once peaceful land. As long as he had the Tesseract, he’d be unstoppable. Once we realized he had the Tesseract, I had one of my best agents, Maria Hill, infiltrate his camp while he slept…”

A woman who they watch sneak into the Red Skull’s tent and slip the Tesseract out of his sleeping hands as though she’s done it a million times before. 

“Agent Hill stole the Tesseract that night and the Red Skull gave the order to hunt it down and slaughter anyone who got in the way of getting it back.”

Everything turns back to normal quicker than a snap of the fingers and Nick is rolling the jeep to a stop. They’re out of the jungle now, but they’re really no better off.

“Right then, that’s your mission.” Nick is handing Steve the Tesseract. “Bring this back to Odin’s treasure room and lift the curse. You’ll probably want to get started right away.”

Steve, looking at the glowing cosmic cube in his hands, lifts his eyebrows before throwing a frantic glance back Nick.

“No, actually, I--”

“And who better for the job than the greatest soldier the world’s ever known?” Nick shrugs. “The fate of Jumanji rests in you and your team’s hands.”

Sam leans forward from the back seat and holds a finger up, waving it back and forth. 

“I- I think you made a mistake,” he says. “We’re not--”

“Some of my agents and friendlies are hiding throughout the land,” Nick interrupts, “to help you along the way. The first of which is the doctor of magic and mysticism which you’ll find at the bizarre.”

Which must mean that’s where they should be headed first. Steve glances back at Natasha who gives him a quick nod as though already on the same page as him. Okay, well, that’s good at least. 

“How’re we even supposed to get there?” Bucky asks. “We don’t--”

“You’ll find the directions through Jumanji,” Nick tells him, “in the map I’ve provided.” 

Like before, no map actually appears. Steve supposes it’s in someone’s item’s list now. They’ll just have to check.

The doors to the jeep spring open and Nick gives them confident smirk as he tells them it’s time for them to get out.

“And remember this, Captain, in order to leave the game, return the jewel and call out its name.”

“Wait, wait,” Clint says, “You’re just gonna--”

Nick gives Steve that same smirk and repeats, “And remember this, Captain, in order to leave the game, return the jewel and call out its name.”

“C’mon,” Natasha grumbles. “He’s just gonna keep saying that.”

Everyone piles out of the jeep, and even with all the new information, no one looks any better than before. Guess that’s to be expected when they’ve been sucked into some sort of video game, shoved into new bodies, and charged with saving a mystical world. 

“A word of advice,” Nick says as he starts to drive away. “What you need to make it through, waits for you on level two!”

“Man, he ain’t even gonna give us a ride, there?” Sam asks as Nick turns the jeep around and heads back the other way. “We gotta walk all the way?”

“No, I… I think.” Steve sighs and shakes his head. “I think we have to save Jumanji.”

From next to him, Natasha pinches between her eyes. They’ve been left in a wide open field. Grass up to their ankles and growing taller farther away. Far out in the distance are mountains reaching high up to the sky. Below that, more jungle. Hills. Clifftops to climb over and across and, _fuck,_ it’s hot out here. 

“How the hell are we supposed to _save_ Jumanji?” Clint asks. “What kinda stupid ass shit is that?” 

“Why can’t we just _not_ play?” Sam says. “Y’know, like, exit or something.”

“I don’t think we can,” Natasha answers. “We have to play to leave. We have to beat the game.”

“So, we return the magic glowing square thing,” Clint says, “and then we get to go home.”

Eyes closing, Steve sucks in a deep breath. He nods to himself. This is just a video game. It’s the man thing he does. There are gonna be levels. They have to play through them. There might even be different challenges in each level. They’ll get harder as they go along. He can do this.

Already walking in the direction of the mountains, Steve waves for everyone to follow him.

“Steve, do you even know where you’re going?” Bucky asks.

“Yeah.” He shrugs. “I think.”

“Oh, great then.”

Before they have a chance to squabble over anything, Natasha suggests they all check their items again. Makes sense. Nick Fury said they had a map. Someone has to have it. 

Turns out they all have new items. Clint has the map. Sam has medical supplies. Natasha has canteens. Bucky has money. Steve has a compass.

Both Steve and Clint take out their new items. Makes sense, Steve thinks, to use the compass when they’re trying to read the map. While Clint tries to make sense of the map, finding landmarks so he can figure out where the hell they are now and where they’re supposed to go next, Steve turns around in a circle in his attempt to find north. 

“Here, here, gimme.” Bucky grabs the compass from him. “I can do it.” 

“Yes, Bucky,” Steve grumbles. “Good thing you can turn in circles better than me.”

Pausing, Bucky glances from the compass to Steve and back to the compass again. He points to it, opening his mouth like he wants to say something but rethinks it before trying again.

“I…” He points to the compass again. “I got it… though.”

“Yeah, great, thanks.” Steve turns back to Clint. “Clint, which way to the next level?”’

Clint looks around. Points out at all the things he can recognize and says something about the Slithering Serpent Pit, which Steve figures was the startup level. 

“The Great Escape,” Clint whispers. “I think that’s where we’re supposed to go.”

“Which is…?” Sam asks. “Which way?”

Turning the map from side to side, Clint tilts his head a few times and then scratches his head.

“I think… I think right _here_.”

The very second the words slip from his mouth, drums begin to beat. Loud and fast and from every direction before stopping as quickly as they started.

“What the _hell_ was that?!” Bucky huffs. “That can’t be good, can it?”

“I don’t know,” Natasha answers. “This isn’t really making any--”

“Wait a second! Shut up!” Steve exclaims. “Do you guys hear that?”

The second they all fall silent, Steve waits for a reaction. When he gets nothing, he throws his palms out in total disbelief. 

“You guys don’t hear that?!”

“Hear _what_ , Steve?” Clint asks. He taps at something in his ear. His hearing aid probably. Seems Hawkeye and Clint have that in common. “I don’t hear anything.” 

“Oh, c’mon!” Steve points towards the trees behind them. “It’s coming from right over there!”

“Steve,” Sam says. “There’s nothing--”

“Wait…” Bucky cups his hand around his ear. “I think… I think I hear it, _too._ Engines, right? Motorcycles. BMS R71s.”

While Steve’s glad he’s not having auditory hallucinations, he can’t help staring at Bucky the way everyone else is. Yes, he heard the noises before the rest of them, and yes, he kinda thought they were engines, but he had _no_ idea how to specify what they were. To that _degree_ either. 

“What?” Bucky asks.

“How the hell did you know that?” Steve asks. 

“Oh.” Bucky blushes. “I don’t… I don’t know. I just sorta… did.” 

Clint slaps and rubs his hands together. “Well, great! That must be the cavalry coming to tell us what’s what! We’ll be home in time for coffee!”

Not quite sharing his enthusiasm, Steve sighs and steps forward. Bucky stands to his left while Sam stands to his right. Clint flanks Sam’s right and Natasha Bucky’s left. They wait. Not two minutes later, Sam and Natasha hear the motors as well. Clint follows just a minute after them. The motorcycles break out of the treeline less than five minutes after that.

The riders all wear strange looking masks. It covers their whole face. Heads, even. Maybe they’re some unique helmet with ugly goggles. That thing in front must be a breathing apparatus otherwise Steve can imagine how they’d be able to get oxygen. Painted on the sides of them is a red octopus. No, scratch that. It’s a hydra to be more specific. Bucky’s the one who makes the distinction. 

“Um, guys?” Sam says as the bikers keep heading their way without even slowing. “Didn’t that Nick guy say something about the Red Skull being the _leader_ of Hydra?”

Natasha takes a step back. “They’re not stopping…” 

“What do we do?” Clint asks.

“Run...” Steve grabs hold of Bucky’s sleeve and shoves Sam to shake him out of his horrified stupor. “Run, now!”

They’re running up a hill. High. Steep. When they reach the top of it, they need to come to a sudden halt. Below them, is nothing but trees and a river.

The first bullet hits the ground in front of them. Steve’s fairly sure he’s the only one who sees it, though, he knows the rest of them definitely hear the shot. The second ricochets off of Bucky’s left arm and actually hits one of the bikers right in the neck. Bucky’s arm isn’t damaged at all. 

“What the fuck?” Clint screams. “They’re shooting at us!”

“I can _see_ that!” Steve shouts back. 

He thinks. Quickly. There are more than one types of enemy in these sorts of games. Some of them, the team needs to just escape from. Others they need to engage. These bikers are closing in on them. Their incoming fire is so close that they’ve already hit Bucky. Doesn’t look like they have a choice. 

“We need to engage!”

It happens suddenly. Steve just reacts. His arms reach for the round shield on his back. Without thinking, he spins around and flings it at the bikers. It sails at the bikers, effectively slicing through the air like a whip and clanging between three of them. As the three of them are knocked to the ground, their bikes running over them, a domino effect causes three more to tumble over as well. The shield then returns to Steve’s hand as though he easily tossed a boomerang. 

This doesn’t stop the rest of them from coming, though. They ride around or over or between their fallen comrades to keep coming from them. 

Steve winds up again. If he’s the leader of this mission, the party, the game, then this falls on him. He’s the only one who can do this. It has to be him. No one else will do his job. 

Just before he throws, a bullet goes through one of the biker’s heads. And then another’s. They crumple to the ground, one by one. Steve has no idea how it happened. Until he glances around and realizes the only one not with them anymore is Bucky. 

He’s raced up a hill to get a higher vantage point. At least, that’s what Steve can only assume as Bucky takes another two shots with that enormous gun of his. 

“Natasha, quick,” Steve directs, “toss some explosives at them.”

“How the hell--”

But the question doesn’t get to leave her lips. All she does is take aim and shoot and a small wall of fire explodes in front of the bikers.

“Clint.” Steve points to the hill directly across from the one Bucky’s on. “Take another high vantage from the other side.” 

“Uh…” Clint shrugs and quickly strings an arrow. “Cool. Look at that.”

“Sam?” They face one another. “You think you can take to the skies? Hit ‘em from--”

“Oh, _hell_ no!” Sam waves his hands out in front of him. “No way am I turning on some freaking _jetpack_!” 

“Okay, okay.” Steve gets ready to throw the shield thing again. “Then you’re on the ground with us. You got weapons, right?”

“Um… oh…” He’s got two handguns in his hands now. “Yeah, looks like it.”

Steve has no idea how long they take on their attack. For all he knows it’s hours. It certainly feels like that anyway. Bullets fall to the ground, puddling like raindrops. Along with that, there are crazy lasers bullets being fired at them, too. From far away, both Bucky and Clint do as much damage as they can, trying to keep more from reaching them. 

Those that do make it through, they need to shoot or stun or knock out. Several times, Steve jumps in front of them to shield them from incoming fire. It’s big enough for that, too. Neat. Also pretty kickass the bullets bounce off the thing and don’t even make a scratch. 

By the time the last biker falls, both Sam and Natasha are sweaty and out of breath. Steve feels like he can go another ten rounds without even needing a rest. Which is pretty freaking awesome considering he’s usually the one on the hurting end of a punch. Not to mention asthma keeps him down and flat feet keep him from running. This body, however, is like a damn powerhouse. 

“You guys okay?”

Natasha gives him a shaky smile and a thumbs up. Awesome. Steve always knew he liked her. Sam hasn’t fared as well. He plops down to the ground and sticks his head between his knees. 

“I hate this place,” he says. “I wanna go home. Where it’s safe. Where there are _walls_.” 

“Hey.” Steve crouches down next to him. “It’s okay, Sam. I’ll figure a way through this thing. I’ll get you home, I promise.” 

Eyes lifting, Sam shakes his head. “Just you?”

Footsteps. 

Steve doesn’t answer Sam and instead leaves him in Natasha’s care when she sits down next to him and takes to gently wiping the sweat from his brow. Coming toward them from either side are Clint and Bucky. Sweat soaks through Clint’s shirt. He’s pale and ashen. Looks like he might actually fall over. 

“You okay?” Steve asks. “Clint?”

Hand against his ribs, he slowly looks back to Steve and shakes his head. Clint removes his hand. It’s covered in blood. 

“They…” He shivers and coughs. “They got me.” 

Right in front of their eyes, Clint falls to his knees and bursts out of existence. 

“What the fuck!” Sam shrieks. “What the fuck just happened?”

Natasha stares wide-eyed at the spot Clint just occupied. “Where did he go?”

“What happened to him?” Bucky asks. “Did he just… did he just _die_?”

That’s impossible. He can’t just be dead, games don’t work that way. Players always have more than one chance to complete a level. 

“Wait,” Steve says. “Just wait a second.” 

Something chimes above their heads. There’s a flash of light. And then Clint falls right out of the sky, falling to a heap in the grass. 

“Whoa. That was trippy.” 

It’s Sam who points out the numbers hovered over Clint’s head. A three, a two, and a one. Currently, the three has an ‘X’ through it. Clint reaches up to touch them. They ripple a bit, shimmering as they do, before fading away. 

“That must be our lives,” Natasha says. “We each probably have three of them.” 

“And what happens if we lose all of them?” Bucky asks. 

A dreaded sort of silence drifts around them. The answer to the question is so painfully obvious but no one wants to come out and say it. 

Steve whispers, “Game over.” 

“Are you saying we can actually _die_ in here?” Sam exclaims. “Is that what you’re saying?”

“I don’t know, Sam! I’ve never been _trapped_ inside a video game before!” 

Natasha shuts them up by suggesting that they all check their items for something that will help them figures out what to do next. A map, maybe. Instructions of some sort. No one does. The only things they have is an assortment of items. Ammo. Medical supplies. Canteens. 

“So now what do we do?” Clint asks. “Just stand around here doing nothing?” 

“Well, why don’t we ask Bucky?” Steve grumbles. “He seems to always know what to do.”

“What the hell does _that_ mean?” Bucky asks. “What did I do?”

“Uh… guys?” Clint says. 

“We’re supposed to be a party, Bucky.” Steve folds his arms. Damn, they _are massive_ , aren’t they? “That means we make group decisions--”

“Guys?” Sam tries.

“--we make them together. As a _party_.”

“What’d I do wrong?!” Bucky exclaims.

“You just _ran_ off on your own to start shooting away! I just turned around and you were gone!” 

“Oh, I’m so sorry that I made a quick decision that _saved_ us!”

“That’s not the point!”

“Then what is?!”

“Guys!” Natasha, Sam, _and_ Clint all shout together. 

In response, both Steve and Bucky turn at them and shout, “What?!” right back at them. 

“The map,” Clint says. “It changed.”

There’s something new on it now. A path -- long and grueling and through the cliffs across the river -- that leads to the bizarre. Where the first ally of theirs -- that doctor Nick spoke of -- is waiting for them. 

Seems like having it out with Bucky will have to wait. 

They have a bizarre to get to. 


	3. In Which Dastardly Doctors have Sinister Plots

They’re quiet as they make their way up the steep, windy cliffs. It’s slow-going and not easy, but at least the path isn’t as narrow as Steve expected. Doesn’t mean they don’t need to be careful. They do. One wrong move and any of them will take a nosedive right off the edge. 

Rocks and pebbles skitter down as they walk along the path. Well, most of them walk along it. 

Sam and Natasha are leading the way. Side by side. Looks like they’ve found something interesting to talk about. Clint walks just behind them, always checking the map as though worried he’s going to make a mistake. Steve’s decided to bring up the rear just in case something bad comes up on them. It’s Bucky who’s having the most difficulties. 

He presses himself right against the wall of the cliff as he shuffles his feet along the path. One very slow step at a time. After almost every few feet he gets, he squeezes his eyes shut and gulp and tremble. 

Strange that one of Bucky’s listed weaknesses isn’t fear of heights. They always terrified him. So much so that despite dragging Steve onto the Cyclone when they were younger, he hid his eyes behind his hands until they reached the top and started down again. 

“Okay, you can totally do this, Bucky Barnes,” Bucky murmurs to himself. “You can do anything. You are capable. Each step is taking me to where I want to be. I know who I am and I am enough.”

Steve’s scoffs. “Say that in front of the mirror every day, huh?”

Eyes popping open, Bucky swings an irritated look his way.

“Can I say _anything_ without you judging me?” he snaps. “I can’t even open my mouth without having you jump down my throat.”

Steve shrugs and brushes by him. Quick enough that it must frighten Bucky since he pushes back against the rocks more, his entire body clenching as he does. Steve instantly feels bad. He didn’t mean to do that. 

“Sorry,” he grumbles. “I didn’t mean--”

“ _Why_ are you so mad at me?” Bucky exclaims. Loud enough to call the attention of everyone else. “What did I do?”

“What’d you do?” Steve shoots back. “What did you _do_?” He whirls back around to face him. “Let’s start with _you_ judging _me_ all the time!”

Bucky’s eyes bug. “ _Me_?”

“Guy’s really?” Sam says from up ahead. “Is this necessary?”

“Yes, _you_!” Steve yells, aware of Sam’s comment and that he should probably listen, but he can’t seem to stop. “First with the snake and then the compass and just runnin’ off by yourself to start shooting?”

Somehow, and Steve didn’t even think it’d be possible, Bucky’s eyes get even wider.

“Are you _kidding_ me?” Something Steve’s said has shocked him so much that it’s enough to get him to peel himself away from the wall. “You’re _mad_ because I took the initiative to start _shooting_ from someplace high on my _own_?”

“No, Bucky.” Steve pinches between his eyes. Strange not to have his glasses there. “I’m mad that one day, out of the fuckin’ clear blue, _you_ decided to treat me like a goddamn baby! You went from being my _best friend_ to being a gym class hero! And I get it, Buck, I do. I was the little pest you needed to shake off, but I don’t need your freaking pity.” 

Face smothered in his palms, Bucky groans and shakes his head like he’s got a headache. Or just became way too tired to keep up with this particular conversation. 

“I was born with _one arm_ , Steve,” he grumbles. Bucky looks over his fingers.“I’ve _never_ pitied you. And what about _you_ , you hypocrite?”

“What about me?” Steve growls. Fists curling and jaw tightening. “I never _did_ anything.” 

“No, nothing at all.” Bucky rolls his eyes and jabs a finger into Steve’s chest. “ _You_ just spent the past decade pushing me away every chance you got.”

Steve rubs the spot Bucky just shoved his finger into and has an urge to shove him back into the stone wall behind him. He’s pretty sure he’s strong enough to do it now, too.

“I didn’t do that,” Steve mumbles. “You’re the one who moved on to bigger and better things. _You_ were the one who didn’t want to be friends with _me_ anymore.”

Pinching between his eyes, Bucky sighs and shakes his head. “That’s not… that’s not true, Steve. I… I’m sorry if I made you feel that way. I just never wanted anything bad to happen to you.”

“I’m not a baby, Buck,” Steve scoffs. “I can get by on my own.” 

“Yeah, I know,” Bucky agrees. Which surprises Steve. He expected an argument not an agreement. “The thing is… you don’t _have_ to.” Bucky sighs as though he’s completely wiped out. “I would’ve been with you to the end of the line.” 

Bucky turns away from him to start walking again. Steve thinks maybe he should say something back to him. His stomach hurts. 

“Are you two done with your lovers’ quarrel then?” Natasha asks. 

Heart dropping, Steve snaps his gaze to her. Even Bucky has halted in his spot. Lovers’ quarrel? A pit forms in Steve’s throat. If only that were the case. 

“No, we’re not--” Steve shakes his head. “Bucky and I aren’t…”

“You’re not?” Clint chuckles. “Could’ve fooled me.” 

“Well, we’re _not_ ,” he grumbles. “Right, Bucky?”

Bucky’s eyes are concentrating very hard on his feet. Probably nervous again, being so high up on this trail. Jaw stiff, he just shakes his head. The others just shrug and they continue on their way. 

The bizarre is exactly what Steve expected and nothing like he’s ever seen before. Venders line the dirt streets. Clay and stone buildings all pushed together as though growing out of one another. People are crammed around everywhere. Buying and selling. Haggling. 

If they weren’t stuck in a video game that they need to beat in order to get the hell out of, Steve would want to stroll around for a while. Natasha, he thinks, gets the same feeling. Steve’s always wished he visit the awesome places in video games. He just never imagined it’d be this way. He never thought it’d really happen at all. 

There’s so much to see here. Jewelry being sold. Pottery being made. Games being played. 

They’ve all agreed that they need to find the doctor that Nick told them about. The problem is, that’s not exactly showing up on the map. The crowds are a bit of a nuisance too. Every few feet, they get so thick it’s nearly impossible to get through. People shout what’s for sale and whenever the crowds thicken, it’s usually food. 

“Hey, is anyone else hungry?” Clint asks after this happens for the fifth or sixth time. “All this food is making me hungry.” 

“Actually,” Natasha replies, “I think the game may be telling us something.” 

Sam maneuvers around a few people, trying to keep up with her. “The game is telling us something?”

“I think she’s right,” Steve agrees when they pass a man selling bread. “I think it’s telling us to eat.”

Natasha nods. “Right. We need to keep our HP up.” 

“HP?” Bucky asks. It’s the first thing he’s said since the cliffs. 

“Health points,” Steve and Natasha say together. 

“All right then.” Clint claps his hands together. “Who has the money? Let’s feast.” 

Bucky’s the one who has the money. Everyone getting five credit’s each seems to be enough to get at least something basic. Though they all stay in the immediate area, they split up to find what they want. Sam and Natasha go off together. Clint says something about finding himself some Jumanji coffee. Steve doesn’t see where Bucky goes, but that doesn’t surprise him. 

Seems the guy blames him for everything that’s gone on between them. A knot ties in Steve’s stomach when he thinks about it as he browses for a bread and settles on a hefty piece of pound cake. 

“So, were you just waiting all this time to say all that to me?”

Mouth full of food, Steve spins around to find Bucky standing just behind him with a pouch of plums.

“What?” Steve replies, mid-chew. “What’re you talkin’ about?”

“I mean…” Bucky bites into one of the plums. “If you felt that way all this time, you think you might’ve said something.” 

Steve scoffs. “You really wanna do this now?”

“We’re trapped in a video game,” Bucky reminds him. “What better place to do it.” 

“Yeah, well.” Steve eases his way through the crowds, trying to get back to the rest of the party. Looks like Clint got his coffee after all. Sam and Natasha are chatting over, what looks like, stirfry. “I don’t need you to tell me everything I did to ruin our friendship.” 

“Jesus, Steve,” Bucy mumbles. “Do you ever listen? It’s like you just decided to hate me one day and that was the end of it.” 

“Whoa.” He shakes his head and takes hold of Bucky’s wrist. “I don’t hate you.” 

A sense of calmness eases around Bucky when Steve says this. As though finding out he doesn’t hate him is something magical. 

“You don’t?”

Steve shakes his head. “No. It’s just… at some… point in our friendship it was like you decided everything needed to be perfect, but, perfect in _your_ way. Even me.” 

Eyes falling, Bucky twists his lips and sucks in a deep breath like he needs to think back on the past several years. On the things he did. On those he didn’t. Weaving in and out of their relationship before he nods.

“Okay, that’s fair,” he agrees. “But, then, do you think maybe you also got, I dunno, freaked out, so instead of talking to me about it, pushed me away?”

“ _No_.” Steve huffs and crosses his arms. Shoves some more pound cake in his mouth when Bucky’s eyebrows shoot up. “I didn’t… no, I didn’t…” He rolls his eyes this time when the corner of Bucky’s mouth quirks. “Okay, _fine_ , maybe.”

Bucky chuckles. “Okay. Okay. You could’ve, Steve. Talked to me, I mean.”

The corner of Steve’s mouth lifts. He remembers this. Being with Bucky as though they’re together every day. It’s nice. Steve misses it. 

“When?” he asks. “When you were trying to make me perfect for you?”

That one’s mostly a joke and luckily for Steve, Bucky seems to take it as such. He gives him a soft punch in the arm. 

“No, punk,” he laughs. “And, I… I probably should’ve told you then that… well, my dad, he… he wants me to be a lawyer in his firm. I said no.” Bucky shrugs. “He… hasn’t forgiven me. I guess I’ve spent all this time trying to be his perfect son ever since then.” 

Steve’s fingers curl in, his nails digging into his palms. Mr. Barnes had always been a tough man. Always put work before his family, Steve thought. While Mrs. Barnes always chauffeured them around and went to after school events when they were little and indulged their childhood games, Mr. Barnes was either at work or on his phone with work or doing something on his computer for work.

Even then, if Bucky got a B, Mr. Barnes asked why it wasn’t an A. When Bucky made the basketball team, he asked when he was gonna become the captain if the team. If Bucky was sick, he’d be in school anyway spouting off some nonsense about how slackers never achieve their goals. 

No wonder Bucky needs everything and everyone around him to be perfect. It’s always been that way for him. He just probably never noticed until his father really turned him away all because he doesn’t want to be a lawyer. Bucky should be anything he wants to be. He should follow his dreams. His heart. If he does that, Steve knows he’ll be on top of the world. Perfect in all his imperfections. 

He could probably tell Bucky that. Maybe he should. Who knows, maybe it’d open the doors to the start of rekindling their relationship. Maybe what Bucky’s needed all this time was someone in his corner. 

“Hey, listen, Bucky,” Steve starts to say. “Maybe when this is--”

“Holy shit, Steve, look!”

Eyes wide, Bucky points to something behind Steve’s shoulder. He’s already calling everyone else over to where they’re standing. 

“What is it?” Natasha asks once they’re all gathered together again. “What’d you find?”

“The doctor, I think.” Bucky steps up to the door of the clay building they’re in front of. “That’s a caduceus.”

Clint crinkles his face. “A what?” 

“Caduceus,” Sam repeats. “The doctor’s symbol.” 

The place is small, not exactly what they’d expect of a doctor of magic and mysticism, but then, maybe that’s the point. Possibly it’s meant to throw them off. It is the only place they’ve come across after being chased into this hell hole of a market-place. Chased down by Hydra Agents. Magic blasty ray gun things. Crazy wild animals. If they’ve found the doctor, maybe they can at least rest for a few minutes. It’s worth a shot. 

“All right,” Steve says and steps forward. “Let’s try.” 

He knocks. They don’t have to wait too long for an answer and when the door opens, there’s a little girl standing there. 

“Aw, hey there, little dude,” Clint greets. “We’re looking for some mystical magic doctor person.”

The little girl looking from him, completely uninterested in what Clint has to say, and right to Steve. She lights up with a big smile. 

“Captain America, thank goodness you’re here.”

“Wow.” Clint scoffs. “Rude.” 

“Um.” Steve shuffles in his spot. “Okay, yeah. That’s me. Is the doctor here?” 

The only response to that is the little girl stepping aside and inviting them inside the place. It’s lit only by the soft candlelight. The window in the back is boarded up with two pieces of wood. There are tables throughout the room and workbenches along the wall. 

Things are bubbling in glass vials and test tubes. Microscopes and magnifying glasses are everywhere. Stacks of thick, dusty books litter the floor. Several chalkboards are filled with formulas and equations. 

“Ah, Captain America!” The voice belongs to a stout bespectacled man who walks toward them from the back of the room. “So kind of you to come to my humble abode. I am Dr. Arnim Zola.” 

This man, this Dr. Zola, though he speaks to Steve, his eyes and strange, almost vulgar smile, remain on Bucky the entire time. Even when they shake hands, he takes his time to finally peel his gaze away from Bucky and finally meet Steve’s. 

“What can I do for you?”

“Uh, well, we were told to find the doctor?” Steve says. “The doctor of--”

“Well.” Dr. Zola claps his hands together. “You have come to see a doctor.” 

“Great!” Clint exclaims. “Now what?”

The now what turns out to be invited into Dr. Zola’s place. They’re told they don’t need to linger in the doorway. Everyone gathers around a table in the back. Dr. Zola brings them drinks. Cool and refreshing. 

He tells them what he knows about the Red Skull. That he believes he can harness the power of the gods and take over the all of Jumanji. He asks about the Tesseract. If they have it. Where is it if they do. If he can see it. 

Steve’s made sure that it’s tucked safely away in one of Sam’s packs. There’s no reason to take it out. 

“It’s safe,” he says before anyone else can answer. “Don’t worry.” 

“Very good, Captain, very good.” He reaches across the table and picks up Bucky’s empty glass. “But you need more, Sergeant.”

“Oh, um…” Bucky’s resting his head in his hand like he’s getting a headache. When he looks up, his eyes open as though he’d just started falling asleep. “Yeah. Yeah, thanks.” 

“Look, Dr. Zola.” Steve gets up and follows him. “We’re sort of in a rush here.”

Dr. Zola is pouring out another drink for Bucky. Tastes like Kool-Aid. Steve wants to huff. They seriously do not have time for this. Still, Dr. Zola nods and brings the drink over to Bucky, who smiles politely and takes another sip from it. Steve sighs and, unpolite or not, starts rummaging a bit through his things right there. 

“The Red Skull will stop at nothing to get the Tesseract back,” Dr. Zola says as Steve sifts through some papers that look like maybe schematics. “He is not someone you want to cross.”

“The final boss,” Natasha says. “Always the hardest, but kinda necessary to beat the game.”

A glass falls over. Steve glances back to see that Bucky has grabbed his stomach and groaned. His face is all twisted in pain.

“Bucky? Sam asks. “You okay?”

“I dunno…” he grunts. “My… my stomach…” He grabs his head then. “Think I need some… air…” 

He tries to stand and stumbles. His chair topples to the floor. Both Natasha and Clint hop up to try to help him, but Dr. Zola catches him by the elbow to keep him steady.

“Dear, dear,” he says. “Must be this heat. Come, this way. Sit over here and we’ll put a cool compress on your head.” 

Bucky stumbles as Dr. Zola helps him farther back into his place where he does, indeed, place a compress on his head. He peels Bucky’s eyes open wide like he’s trying to get a good look at his pupils. Bucky groans and holds his stomach. He’s sweating. Shivering. Looks over at Steve. Steve can see real fear and panic behind his eyes. 

“What’s wrong with him?” Sam asks. “Is he okay?”

“Oh, I’m sure he’ll be fine,” Dr. Zola answers. “He just needs to rest.”

“No.” Steve shakes his head. Bucky is so pale. “No, something is wrong.”

Dr. Zola takes Bucky’s chin in his hands and holds his head straight, forcing him to look straight at into his eyes. The number over his head changes from three to two.

“Look at me, Sergeant Barnes,” he orders. “Listen very carefully. Желание. Ржавый…” He pauses. Waits. There’s no response in Bucky. He’s just disoriented and sick and in pain. “Семнадцать. Рассвет. Печь. Девять. Добросердечный…” Bucky’s eyes, slowly and weakly, begin to focus and lift to meet his. “Возвращение на родину. Один…” 

“Wait, what…” Steve rushes over there. “What’re you doing to him?! Why do you know his real name?”

“Грузовой вагон.” 

Dr. Zola releases his hold on Bucky and for just one second, his head dips forward before he straightens up again on his own. Halfway to them, Steve freezes. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe Dr. Zola really was doing something to help him. Nick Fury did say he was a doctor of magic and mysticism. 

“Is he…” Clint takes a cautious step closer. “Is he okay?”

Bucky’s just sitting there now. Not moving. Not saying a word. He’s just staring blankly. The shivering has stopped and the sweat is drying and the color is returning to his cheeks, but he still doesn’t look right. Not with that vacant expression on his face.

Dr. Zola smirks and bends down in front of Bucky. He says, “доброе утро, солдат.”

Eyes glancing up to him for only a second, Bucky returns his gaze to that lifeless stare straight ahead before responding.

“Готовы соблюдать.” 

“Steve,” Natasha whispers, appearing at his side. She sounds nervous. “This isn’t good. We need to get him out of here.”

“What?” This can’t be good. Not with the expression on her face. On Dr. Zola’s face. On Bucky’s face. “What is this? What’s happening?”

“Sergeant Barnes, you will be the new fist of Hydra,” Dr. Zola says. “Put him on ice, Colonel Karpov.”

“We just need to go!” she shouts. “Get him! Now!”

Right as Steve takes a panicked step in their direction, ready to grab Bucky out of the clutches of whatever it is Dr. Zola has done to him, Hydra agents burst through the window, the door, the roof. They pile in with their weapons and flame-throwers. 

Everything is chaotic in a matter of seconds. Tables are overturned. Chairs break. Glasses shatter. Sam knocks out several men who attack. Clint uses his arrows to keep more from coming in. Natasha flings them back. Steve charges through them like a bull, using his shield to shove them away as he desperately tries to get to Bucky. Who has, for some reason, stepped in front of the leader of this strike force as though he’s protecting him.

Steve can only assume that’s Colonel Karpov and Bucky’s even punching and shooting even Hydra agents to get him out of there safely. 

“Get me out of here,” he commands Bucky. “ _Now_.” 

“No!” Steve yells. “No, Bucky! Bucky, what are you doing!” 

Grabbing him by the arm, Steve tries to pry him away from this Karpov guy. Only instead of going with him, Bucky twists and shoves him away so hard that Steve flies back and crashes into a table. Steve is so rattled he needs a few seconds to realize what’s just happened. A few more to notice that Bucky and Kaprov are reaching the door.

“Stop them!” Steve pushes back up to his feet. “Don’t let them leave!” 

He played this all wrong. This isn’t the doctor. He’s _a_ doctor, but not the one they were supposed to find, damn it, they played right into his trap. Across the room, Sam has Dr. Zola surrendering. Both Clint and Natasha are fighting off the remaining Hydra agents. Steve races to stop Bucky from leaving with Kaprov. 

“No!” he shouts again. “Bucky! Bucky, listen to me! Please!”

Bucky yanks the door off the hinges and flings it back at Steve. Steve, reacting just in time, avoids getting hit by the thing and keeps going. He watches in abject horror as they walk out the doorway and disappear into the crowd. 

“Oh god…” Steve whispers as he reaches the doorway himself, searching the mob for any sign of them. “No…” He keeps looking. “No, no, _no_! Bucky?! Bucky, where are you?!” Steve takes hold of the nearest person’s shoulders and stops them. “Excuse me, have you seen a guy with a metal arm? Shaggy brown hair? Pretty steel-blue eyes? Pouty lips? Real muscular?”

The guy looks at him for a second before saying, “Hello. There are many shops and boutiques in our bizarre. You should take some time to visit them.”

Eyes stinging with hot tears, Steve grabs the lady next to them and gets more of the same. Everyone he grabs says something similar. The same automatic response no matter what. 

“Steve.” Someone touches his arm. Natasha. “Come on, they’re all gonna say the same thing.” 

“I don’t _care_!” he snaps. “ _Someone_ knows where they took Bucky and I’m gonna _find_ him!”

“I know.” She nods. Places soft hands at the sides of his neck. “But I think we need to finish this level first. We need to find the right doctor.”

Rubbing fingers into his eyes, his breaths tremble but he nods and straightens. 

“Okay,” he whispers. “Right. Let’s go.” 

Back at Dr. Zola’s place, Steve is surprised to find that Sam and Clint aren’t alone. Along with them, holding Dr. Zola captive, are two women. One of them, Steve recognizes. Maria Hill. The Shield Agent Nick Fury told them about. She’s got her gun trained right at Dr. Zola’s face. 

The other woman is dressed similar to Natasha only her outfit is white. Her blonde hair is pulled up in a high ponytail and she’s on a walkie-talkie before noticing that Steve and Natasha have returned. 

“Captain America,” she greets. “I’m Agent 13, Shield Special Forces. I’ve been assigned to help you proceed with your mission.”

“Now?” Steve growls. “Now you guys show up? Where were you ten minutes ago?”

“I think that’s why they’re here,” Sam says. “Because we’re down a player.” 

“I’ll take him into custody,” Agent Hill tells them. “Director Fury has a cell all set up for him.”

That’s not what Steve wants done with him. Having this man tossed in a cell, even if he rots for the rest of his life, is much too good. He needs to burn for what he’s done. All of Hydra needs to burn. 

It’s the thought that pushes him forward as he follows Agent 13 through the rest of the bizarre. Past crowds that now part for them and buildings that no longer hold any interest. They walk in silence. Steve gets the feeling that the others might steal glances at him every now and then, but he doesn’t care. He can’t look back at them. He’s seething. Something inside of him hurts. 

All these years Bucky’s been right there. So close he could reach out and touch him. Talk things out and clear the air. Maybe even find the courage to do something as stupid enough as tell him how he feels about him. That underneath all that hostility and resentment, Steve’s always loved him. 

Now, Steve might not ever have that chance. If he loses Bucky to this game… 

A tremble skitters up Steve’s spine. He’s already made his decision. He’ll win the game for the sake of the others. But if Bucky’s already lost, then Steve will forfeit himself to Jumanji as well. 

In front of him, Agent 13 makes a right turn and down this alley, there’s no one. Just a building all the way at the other end. The door has an eye drawn across it. Green. In a weird looking hashtag thing. 

“I take it that’s the doctor’s,” Sam says when she steps aside and waves them ahead. “Ya’ll can’t use simple addresses, right? Gotta play Pictionary to find ya places.” 

“I guess that’s a yes.”

“Before you go, I have this for you.” She reaches into one of her pouches and takes out a little cloth one, handing it to Steve. “You’ll need this to stop Project Insight.” 

Steve opens it up. They’re four game pieces. Tokens. An ivory rhinoceros, a metallic elephant, an obsidian crocodile, and jade monkey. 

“Project Insight?” Natasha asks. “What is that?”

“A program Hydra developed to keep track of every Jumanji citizen,” Agent 13 explains. “And eliminate any they deem a threat to them.”

Steve looks up from the pieces in his palm. “What the hell do we do with these?”

“What you need to make it through,” she answers, “waits for you on level two.” Agent 13 points down the alley. “The Doctor of Mystic and Mysticism is right down that way.”

Clint shrugs. No point in asking anything else anyway. “Let’s go see if the doc is in.” 

They make their way down the alley and when they reach the building, Steve knocks once. A second time. And when his knuckles go to hit a third time, they all find themselves no longer standing outside, but in the grand entry hall of a place much too big for the outer dimensions of this building. 

“Um…” Steve looks around. At the marble floors. The antiques. The polished wood. “Hello?”

“Captain America, hello.” Up at the top of the grand staircase is a man in a cape and some crazy bling hanging from his neck. “Welcome to the Sanctum Sanctorum. I’m Doctor Stephen Strange, Master of the Mystic Arts.”

It takes Steve, and by the quiet gasp, the others, a second to realize that Doctor Stephen Strange, Master of the Mystic Arts, isn’t _standing_ at the top of the stairs… he’s floating. Wind catches in his cape. Or air since there isn’t precisely any wind blowing through the place. 

“Uh, right. Thanks.” Steve takes a measured step closer. “You’re supposed to…”

Doctor Strange begins to float down the steps. “You’ve come to me seeking assistance reaching the next level which I can help you in one of two ways.” 

Steve doesn’t respond, waiting for him to take it upon himself to continue on his own. When he doesn’t, Steve sighs. His answer must be equivalent to hitting ‘X’ or something. 

“Okay?” he says. “How can you help us?”

“Hawkeye.” When he says Clint’s avatar name, Clint stands up straight, pointing at himself like he’s done something wrong. “Your map has been incomplete since arriving at the bizarre, correct.”

“Uh…” Clint nods. “Right, dude.”

Waving his finger through the air, a streak of orange light follows it. It’s not clear. Faint. An outline of a path to follow. 

“You can continue on foot,” Doctor Strange tells them. “Or I can open a passage for you and you can take that.” 

“Why the hell would we walk through this god-forsaken place?” Sam asks. “We’ll take the--”

“What’s the catch?” Natasha asks. “What’s through the passage?”

Doctor strange wipes his hand through the example map he made for them, making it disappear. He swirls away, the cape dramatically sweeping with him and they once again find the room they’re standing in different. 

It’s a library. Doctor Strange searches one shelf for the book he wants and pulls out an old, thick one. Thumbs through the pages for a few seconds and shows them a picture of two men in front of two huge doors. 

“Through the passage, you will find two brothers,” he explains. “Each of them guards the entrance to a world unknown. They are the gatekeepers.”

Steve sighs. A challenge level then. Sort of a cheat code. Beat this little challenge and skip right up where they want to get to rather than take the long way. If they don’t beat it though… well, here, Steve’s not sure what that means. 

“If it gets us to Bucky faster,” Steve murmurs, “I choose the passage. But if you guys aren’t comfortable with that then--”

“Let’s do it.”

Clint voices his opinion with, what sounds like cautious optimism. When Steve glances over to him, he shrugs. 

“Hey, we got Captain America, right? You were pretty kickass back there. And Tasha was flinging guys around with her legs so that’s awesome.” He points to Sam. “And The Falcon might not be flying, but he sure as hell has some right hook and I might be the world’s most number one screw up but so far in here at least I can shoot an arrow, right? Bucky’s part of our party and one hell of a good tipper. I say we go get him.” 

For a few seconds, everyone just stares at him. Then they all look at each other before Sam pinches between his eyes and chuckles. 

“Y’know, oddly enough,” he says, “that was weirdly inspirational.” 

Natasha grins and claps Steve on the back. “Let’s go get our boy.” 

“Doctor Strange,” Steve says to him with a sense of pride that this is his party and together they’re going to help him get his Bucky back. “We choose the passage.” 


	4. In Which Gatekeepers Show Us Worlds Beyond

The portal Doctor Strange creates for them is strange. He slaps hands together and circles them through the air. Fire spits out of them, crackling and popping, and making an entirely new place appear within the circle. 

It’s almost like a television. A brand new world forming right before their eyes only this one, they can actually step right into. What they step into happens to be dark. So dark, it’s hard to see but not impossible. 

The walls are stone. The floors, marble. Up on the ceilings, Steve thinks there might be paintings. 

“So, yeah,” Clint deadpans. “This is great.” 

“I think we have to find the gatekeepers,” Natasha suggests. “The brothers.”

Drums, which they last heard when Hydra first attacked back in the valley, start beating. 

“God dammit,” Sam swears. “I hate those drums.”

“Clint,” Steve says, “does the map say something?”

“Well, hey, I’d love to check, but in this light, I don’t think I’m gonna get much.”

Steve sighs. No reasons to fall apart here. This is just a matter of figuring out how to get through this obstacle. That’s all this is. Just another level. A bonus level at that. A way to get them through the entire game quicker. 

“Hey, wait.” If meeting Doctor Strange was a step in level one… “Check your items. We completed a challenge. At least _one_ of us should have an item or reward or _something_.”

Sure enough, Steve’s right. Sam has a flashlight. Old, but it’s still a flashlight and it works. Clint has a kerosene lantern while Steve has the kerosene for it. Natasha has matches. For now, they stick with the flashlight just so they can look at the map. 

It’s pretty straightforward. Not a maze or anything like that. So long as they stay on the path they’ll get there. There only seems to be one problem. Before they get to the part marked as “Gatekeepers” there’s another marked as “Goddess of Death”. Which, really, doesn’t sound like anything good. 

“Okay, hold up.” Sam takes a step away from the map, taking the light with him. “No one said anything about no Goddess of Death.” 

Clint offers some blunt optimism. “Well… maybe it’s a figure of speech. 

“Oh.” Sam wavers a dark chuckle. “Sure. This place has been chock _full_ of those.” 

“I don’t…” Steve swallows roughly. “I don’t think we have a choice now. S’not like we can get back.” 

In this, they agree and they start along the path the map has provided for them. Clint insists that the darkness they’re in isn’t normal darkness. That it’s pumped up on steroids or something. Which does nothing to soothe their nerves but does prompt everyone telling him to shut the hell up. 

Other than the darkness and the wandering towards something marked on the map as “Goddess of Death” they’re doing rather well. Until Steve, who’s insisted he be in the lead, clips his knee on something. It doesn’t hurt -- at all, really -- but it happens and when he shines the flashlight at it, he gasps. 

All around them are stone slabs. Atop them are the skeletal remains of dead bodies. They all appear to be ceremoniously arranged. Like maybe they were soldiers laid to rest with honor years and years ago. 

“What the fuck?” Sam asks. “Is this a crypt? Have we been walking through a fucking crypt?” 

“Not exactly.” The answer comes clear across the other end of the room. “Welcome to Odin’s Trophy Room.” 

Flames ignite above them, filling the room with a soft glow. Along with all the bodies are several objects. A tablet with indecipherable inscriptions. Stones that glow like the Tesseract. A bright orb. Two of those actually, but one is beset in an eye-shaped, golden frame. 

All the way in the back is a huge goblet. In it, a white, raging fire that casts eerie shadows off the woman who just spoke. 

Dressed in black and hints of emerald green, she rises off what clearly serves as some sort of throne. The darkness that Clint mentioned before, Steve can feel it now. It surrounds her clear blue eyes in smokey threats.

“Who is this emo chick?” Sam asks. “The Goddess of Death?”

“Nah,” Clint murmurs. “The lost member of My Chemical Romance.” 

“My name is Hela.” She flicks something from off her finger. “Odin’s firstborn. And if you want to get to my _pathetic_ brothers, you’ll have to get through _us_ first.” 

A deep, guttural growl comes from behind the flames in the goblet. Teeth, no, bared fangs are they first thing Steve sees. Dark, glowing eyes next. A wolf. Ear pinned back against his head. Fur on edge. It creeps forward, long, sharp claws scraping against stone. 

“Aw,” Clint coos. Coos at the damn thing. “It’s a _puppy_!”

While Steve really has no desire to take his eyes off the giant wolf crawling towards them, he can’t help eyeing Clint. A puppy. A wolf the size of a barge is hardly a puppy. That doesn’t stop Clint from smiling at the thing. At least Sam and Natasha are on Steve’s side. Even with their hands on their weapons, ready to pull them out at the moment’s notice, they too, are giving him the stink eye.

“Fenris,” Hela says, soft and calm, “Have fun, my pet.”

The first lunge he makes sees both Sam and Natasha pulling out their guns. 

“No, wait!” Clint shouts and shoves their arms back down. “Don’t shoot him!”

“What?!” Natasha shouts back. “What’re you--”

“It’s just a dog!”

“A _giant_ dog!” Sam yells. “With teeth and fangs! And teeth!”

Nothing they say matters to Clint. He just slips in front of them and holds his palms out. 

“Easy, big guy!” he says to Fenris. “It’s okay! We won’t…” The wolf slows down and stops in front of him. “We won’t hurt you. It’s okay.” Clint pets a shaky hand across the side of his snout. “See that? You’re a good boy, aren’t you?”

“Clint…” Natasha whispers. “I don’t think…”

“No, no.” Clint shakes his head and gently takes hold of her wrist. “It’s okay. Here.”

He guides her hands to where his had been on the wolf. Tells her it’s safe. Everything is fine. For just a second, Steve thinks maybe he’s right. This is, sometimes, how a game works. A trick boss. They don’t have to actually fight but tame the wild beast. 

Natasha strokes her hand once across Fenris’s fur. The wolf tilts his head towards her. Then growls loudly before opening his mouth wide, his teeth bared and dripped with drool, In one, quick swoop, he dives in and swallows Natasha whole. 

Everything happens so quickly, no one even has a chance to scream. Not at first anyway. It’s almost as though time, for that instance, stands still. When it starts up again, Clint falls over. Sam screams. Steve flings his shield at Fenris to draw his attention away from both of them just as there’s a chime and a flash of light above them. 

Just as Fenris turns his eyes on Steve, Natasha, landing in that typical superhero pose, but _totally_ pulling it off, slowly rises back up and gazes back at Clint. His mouth drops open. Possibly it fills with an apology but he never gets it past his lips. 

“Let’s just say I’m more of a cat person,” she says, “and I’m gonna do this _my_ way this time.” 

She whips her guns back out and aims it right at Fenris’s mouth. Unloads. Reloads as Sam does the same. While they distract the wolf, Steve takes the chance to go after Hela. He doesn’t get very far. Hela flicks her hands out and sharp black rods shoot out of the ground, impaling Sam’s arms, foot, and chest. 

“No, Sam!” Steve cries. “Clint! Help Natasha!”

Still on the ground where he landed after Fenris had a tasty Natasha snack, Clint whipped his gaze between Steve and the wolf before nodding and hopping to his feet to do just that. As they continue with Fenris -- Sam reappearing seconds later with the number two above his head -- Steve flings the shield at Hela. 

The shield hits her directly in the face. Makes her head snap back. Steve grins, sure of his victory. Until Hela rises back up as though all he’d done is breathed on her. She smirks. 

It just goes on like that. Over and over. No matter what they do to Fenris or to Hela they don’t put a dent in their HP. If that’s what they’re supposed to be doing at all. 

“Okay,” Clint pants. “At exactly what point did we lose control of this situation.” 

“When did we _have_ it?” Sam asks. 

“This is frickin’ crazy,” Natasha grumbles. “We’re never gonna get anywhere like this. Are you sure this is the right way to go?”

Clint throws his hands out. “You saw the map! It was the only--” 

“Okay, okay.” Steve stops them both. “There’s gotta be another angle to this. Something we’re not seeing.” 

That’s gotta be it. There’s obviously some secret to beating her. The trick is just figuring out what. Everything they throw at Hela and her wolf just do nothing. In fact, it just does more damage to them than to her. 

“I think I have an idea,” Steve says when he realizes that Hela’s never taken a step away from the huge goblet with the white flames. “Keep them distracted.” 

“Oh sure,” Clint grumbles. “No problem.” 

Steve charges again, getting around Fenris only because of the spray of bullets fired at him by Sam and Natasha. Arrows whiz by Steve, aimed right at Hela. The only reason they don’t strike is her uncanny ability to knock them out of the way with the flick of her fingers. 

“This again?” she mocks Steve as he approaches. “Aren’t you getting bored?”

He winds up and flings the shield. Only this time, he isn’t aiming for Hela. This time, he throws it behind her. Right at the wall. Steve throws himself to the ground, sliding by her just as the shield ricochets off the stone and back to him. He hops to his feet and catches it. Twirls and slams it down on the flames. 

“No!” Hela screams, Fenris howling his own anguish. 

Everything goes dark. 

When the lights come back on, courtesy of sun streaming through large arched windows, they’re no longer standing in the crypt or the vault or whatever that place was. Where they are now, has marble columns and gold-plated floors. 

“Our sister is just the worst,” says the blonde angel carved entirely out of pure muscles, “isn’t she?”

“Is it really any wonder our father sealed her away?” says the other. 

This one’s beautiful in a sinfully wicked way. The kind that Steve’s pretty sure they shouldn’t trust because video game logic suggests he’s most likely a true neutral character and can be playing for either side at any given moment, but he’ll make them want to trust him anyway. 

“What are you guys supposed to be?” Clint asks. 

“We are the Gatekeepers,” says the lean, sleek one. “Tremble before our power and might for behind us is--”

“Oh, give it a rest, Loki. You are such a diva.” He shakes his head. “Forgive my brother for the theatrics. I am Thor, son of Odin.”

“And I am Loki Laufeyson of Jötunheimr, son of Odin.”

Steve gives them both another once over. Neither of them appear outwardly villainous, though, his initial gut feeling that Loki might turn on them for personal gain at the snap of a finger hasn’t left. 

Thor stands proud and tall, smiling and yet has it in him to be intimidating. He wears, what Steve thinks is, Viking-style armor. He’s got a hammer, flipping it and catching it by the handle as though the thing is as light as a feather. 

Loki, on the other hand, leans his weight against as gold staff as though already bored of this interaction. There’s something arrogant in his position. On his head, he wears a golden helmet with curved horns coming out of it. Yes, this guy screams arrogance. There’s most likely a reason for it. 

Steve has no doubt he’s probably talented in whatever it is he does -- he has a feeling that if they weren’t on a bonus level they might find out -- and he’s hoping that there’s no situation where they have to fight him. 

“So,” Steve says, “you guys are the Gatekeepers?”

“Was that not obvious when I said it?” Loki answers and then looks at Thor. “Was it not obvious?” 

“What is it that we’re supposed to do here?” Natasha asks. “Answer a riddle or something?”

Behind him, Steve hears Sam chuckle. Whether or not Thor and Loki understand the question, they don’t know. It doesn’t really matter. The two of them just stand there in front of their supposed doors. 

“You choose,” Thor answers. “Behind each of us lies a doorway.”

“Through which only one of you may enter,” Loki picks up. “If they should be successful in their travels, their teammates shall be transported immediately to the next level with them.”

“If they fail,” Thor says, “they will be returned to us to choose again. If they die while on their mission another shall go in their place.”

So, okay, those are the rules. Simple enough. Except of course, for the whole possibly dying part. Oh, and the fact that they don’t know exactly what’s behind these doors of theirs. 

“Are you gonna tell us what’s in the doors?” Sam asks. “Or do we just assume the worst?”

A smirk lifts on Loki’s mouth. Excited. Simmering. Vulgar, even. He lifts away from the staff -- which stays upright even without him holding it -- and waves behind him. A green flash of light. Then a round, golden door appears. 

“Through here,” Loki says, “you’ll find a world where time works in ways that will entice your mind and body. Find all the glory you could ever imagine. Be champion of an entire _world_ as you make your way through.”

When he finishes, Thor flips his hammer again and slams it behind him. It might look like there’s nothing behind him, but his hammer hits something so hard that wind flies out of the sides of it. Bolts of lightning burst from it, creating another door. 

“This door will take you to a world unlike our own,” he explains. “Beyond the Nine Realms where the stars are infinite and planets are bountiful. Seek knowledge that you never thought possible. Make powerful allies along the way. Or… allies anyway.” 

Now that the choices have been laid out in front of them, the next thing they have to do, Steve guesses, is figure out who’s going to be the one to go through one of the two doors. For him, the choice is easy. He’s going. End of discussion. If he’d been paying closer attention, then maybe he’d’ve realized that Dr. Zola wasn’t the doctor they were meant to be with at all and Bucky would still be with them. This is his mess and he’ll clean it up. He’s going to get them closer to Bucky. 

Besides which, this is a Captain America type deal. It makes sense for him to go. 

“All right, look.” He turns to the rest of them. “I’m gonna go through one of the doors. If… if for some reason I don’t make it make it back, Natasha, you pick who goes next.” 

“Wait, why her?” Clint asks and then throws his palms up when every pair of eyes land on him. “Hey, just generally curious!”

“Because,” Steve says, “she’s the most game savvy.”

“Make sense,” Sam agrees. “But, Steve, you’re sure you wanna go. You’ve been really messed up since--”

“I’m fine,” Steve interrupts. “I’ll be okay. Whatever you do, don’t go through Loki’s door.” 

No one actually argues with that, but they do glance in Loki’s general direction. Discreetly, but they do it. 

“Why?” Sam asks. “How do you know it’s not a better way to go?”

“Video game logic,” Natasha answers. “Don’t trust the guy who doesn’t look trustworthy.”

“So then we’re good?” Steve questions. “I’ll go?”

“If you die,” Natasha says, “I take over.”

Steve gives her a lazy salute as he heads toward Thor and Loki. “Hopefully, I don’t die.”

When he steps in front of the brothers, chunks of ice tumble down his spine. He suppresses a shiver. Steve might not be facing these two in battle but he doesn’t want them to see his fear. 

“You’ve made your choice then?” Loki asks. 

“Yes,” Steve has to whisper to keep his voice from trembling. “I have.”

“What will it be?” Thor asks. “The stars?”

“Or glory? 

Steve looks between Thor and Loki. He’s already made up his mind, but standing before them he feels as though he’s doing something wrong. Loki’s expression is so convincing, almost innocent that he’s so ready to forgo his choice and go through his door instead. 

Before he makes any rash decision, Steve shakes his head and quickly looks to Thor and points. 

“That one,” he says. “I want to go through that door.” 

Thor grins. “Then you shall. Just tell them Thor sent you!” 

The door opens and Steve has no time to even tell himself that something is happening. Just as Thor promised though, he’s propelled through the stars. They’re big and bright and beautiful. Steve has no idea where he’s going or what he’s headed for, but he does end up somewhere. 

Unfortunately, the somewhere he ends up at happens to be some chaotic space mall or something. People or aliens or whatever are going nuts. Screaming. Running all over the place. Laserbeams flying everywhere.

“What the hell are you supposed to be?”

The voice comes from behind him. Steve spins around. No one is there. No one he sees anyway. When he glances down, Steve nearly topples over. Video game or not, he never expected to stumble upon an upright, talking raccoon holding two rather _large_ guns.

Behind the walking, talking _raccoon_ is a walking _tree_. He, or the tree, or… do trees have genders? Maybe here they do. Either way, the tree doesn’t have a weapon. All it’s doing is playing a video game. How very meta. A video game within a video game. 

“Fine,” says the raccoon, “if you can’t talk, then stay outta our way.” 

He and the tree brush by him. The raccoon, while the tree stands behind him playing his game, starts shooting and so far, these are the loudest guns Steve’s heard the whole time he’s been in Jumanji. He slams his hands against his ears. 

Steve has no idea what or who he’s shooting at, but as soon as he stops, the raccoon waves for the tree to follow. 

“No, wait!” Steve says. “Thor, uh, Thor sent… me?”

That makes the raccoon stop. Both he and the tree glance back at him. A smirk pulls at the corner of the raccoon’s mouth. The tree straightens up and then speaks directly to Steve. 

“I am Groot.”

Steve just stares at him for a second. He pats his chest. “I am Steve Rogers.”

“You are a friend of Thor’s?”

This voice is most decidedly female and comes from above. Steve looks up to see someone leap down gracefully from one of the metal bars up above. Most definitely not human either, Steve’s not sure _what_ she is, but she’s positively adorable anyway. Wide, almost anime-like eyes and antennae curving out of her brow, she smiles at Steve as though any friend of Thor is a friend of theirs. 

“Um…” He doesn’t quite mean to do it, but he backs up when she gets a little too close into his personal space. “Sorta?”

Steve can’t back up too far. He slams right into someone else. A massive wall of muscle. Not taller than him, he doesn’t think, but when he turns, he probably shouldn’t be surprised to see a broad, gray-skinned man and piercing blue eyes.

“I am Mantis,” she tells him, still just a little too close. “And this is Drax.”

“Thor has sent us another man,” Drax says, inspecting Steve as though impressed by what he sees. “Like himself.”

Someone touches Steve now. A hand, or a finger, really, tracing the muscle in his right bicep. It startles him, but really, Steve can’t exactly blame this gorgeous green alien lady for wanting to touch. These new guns of his are pretty incredible. He even flexes for better access. Look at those things. 

“Not as big as Thor’s,” she remarks. Steve releases his muscle, ego going with it. “But definitely worth having around.” 

“Okay, are we gonna make a _habit_ of this?” Another person joins them, this one flying in and touching a button on his helmet and revealing his face. “Gamora, stop touching the guy’s muscles.” 

Gamora backs away, hands out. The new guys huffs at her before turning to Steve with a certain, _I might kill you if you make the wrong move_ look on his face. 

“He’s a friend of Thor’s, Peter,” Gamora says. “He sent him here.” 

“Hm.” Peter circles around him. “Kinda scrawny if you ask me.”

“Gimme a break, Quill,” the raccoon says and gestures to Steve. “This guy could probably bench press you just as easy as Thor could.”

“I am Groot,” Groot says to that.

Whatever that means, it makes Drax crack up and Mantis laughs behind her hands. 

“Okay, look,” Steve says. “I don’t mean to interrupt whatever’s going on here, but Thor said you’d be able to help me.”

There’s still so much going on around them. Still screaming. Still running. Still firing. 

“Maybe,” Peter replies. “But we still have a little sticky situation of our own thanks to Rocket.” 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” The raccoon shakes his head. “How is this _my_ fault?”

“You _stole_ from Taneleer Tivan!” Gamora exclaims. “Did you really think that he was just going to _ignore_ that?”

Rocket shrugs. “I wanted it more than him.”

“What _ever_ ,” Peter mocks. “He chased us down and wanted _us_ for his collection!”

They start to argue then. About how they got into the mess. About how to get out of it. About who’s fault it is. 

Steve sighs. He doesn’t have time for this. He needs to get through this place and to the other end so he can get the rest of his party and save Bucky. 

“Look, I _really_ don’t have time for this,” he grumbles. “I gotta get out of… where the hell am I?”

Rocket, who’s now in the process of putting something together, says, “Knowhere.”

“We’re in the middle of nowhere?”

“No,” Gamora says. “We’re in _Knowhere_. It’s a mining colony of Exitar. If we can get you through here, we can probably get you out to where you need to be.” 

“But there’re people shooting at you,” Steve observes. “That’s a problem.”

“Well, yeah, and that.”

Peter jerks over his shoulder with his thumb. Why anything is shocking to Steve anymore is beyond him. Back in the distance, crashing through walls and pipes and crates, are giant pink tentacles.

“Courtesy of the white-haired gentleman back there,” he says. “The Collector. Who wants to keep _us_ in his collection now.”

No wonder people are firing weapons like crazy. That thing isn’t exactly being biased. It’s just going after anyone who happens to be in its way. 

“Well, that’s horrible.” Steve crinkles his face. “What can I do to help?”

“You any good with that shield?” Rocket asks. “Or you just carry it around for good looks?”

When Steve pulls the shield off from his back, about to tell him that he’s actually not so bad with the thing, Peter’s eyes bug out of his head. 

“Oh my _god_!” he exclaims. “What a… I know _you_! You’re Captain America!”

Now it’s him who starts touching Steve’s muscles. Hands around both of Steve’s arms, he squeezes them as though this is some childhood fantasy come true.

“Guys, do you know who this _is_?!”

Mantis asks, “Is he related to Kevin Bacon?”

“Almost,” Peter answers. “He might be better than him.”

“No, I’m not… at all related to… what?”

“Is he a mighty hero?” Drax asks. “He looks like a mighty hero.”

“Yeah, well, he is!” Peter says. “Back on Terra, anyway. The guy practically _won_ World War Two _by himself_. He’s literally the stuff legends are made of.”

“This is great and all.” Gamora turns to Steve. “Really, it is. But we have a few more _pressing_ matters to deal with.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Rocket says. “I’m on it. You with the shield…”

What Rocket’s made there is a bomb. A bomb he plans on throwing at the giant tentacles headed for them. Which will undoubtedly piss the damn monster thing off. The good news is that Mantis can hold it off for a few minutes with her nifty powers of putting it to sleep. But since she’ll be running with them, the effects won’t last all that long. The bad news is that Mantis first has to use her powers on Drax so that he doesn’t go running at the damn thing. 

As soon as the bomb goes off, the monster wakes again. Mantis does all she can to slow it down. The rest of them have their weapons. Guns, mostly. Bigger than any of the ones Steve’s party has used. Expect for maybe Bucky. He’s actually pretty sure Rocket would love to use some of Bucky’s guns. Gamora is a badass. She flings herself up at the tentacles, grabbing onto one and shooting right through it. Peter flies around it and shoots wherever he can. Drax circles around, shooting at the base while Groot uses his branches to pierce through its skin. 

All Steve has to do for them is take the incoming fire. Shield them. He’s played levels like this before. Block and evade. Keep his teammates safe. 

The very last thing Steve expects though, is the music. He has no idea where it’s coming from, but the others seem to hear it too. They’re even singing along to it. Some 80s pop song. Steve just rolls with it. 

It’s not until they can’t run any further and Steve sees that everyone except for Groot and Mantis have been wrapped up by a tentacle. Steve comes to an abrupt halt. 

“Shit.” He thinks quickly. “Mantis, when they’re all down, can you put that thing to sleep again?”

“It is very angry,” she says. “But I can try.” 

“Groot, can you catch them before they fall?”

Branches already stretching, Groot responds, “I am Groot.”

Hoping that means yes, Steve readies his shield and throws. It first slams between the tentacles holding Peter and Gamora, and they’re released. As soon as Steve has hold of it again, he throws once more. Again, when it hits, Drax and Rocket fall. Just as he hoped, Groot catches them before they fall to the ground and yanks them out of the way. 

“Everybody together!” Steve shouts. “Get all around the thing and shoot! Now!”

They do. While Mantis works on keeping it as subdued as possible, they shoot all its vulnerable spots. The thing screeches as they attack and Mantis keeps it still. Steve still does his job in keeping them safe. Now that they’ve got the thing right where they want it, that Collector guy is moving in for them. 

Not taking any chances, Steve chucks the shield right at him. Clocks him right in the head. 

“Oh.” Rocket laughs. “Nice shot, Captain Underpants.” 

Steve’s just caught the shield again. He says nothing about the name. Besides, the giant monster thing is beginning to tremble. Looks like a giant gelatin during an earthquake. Which makes Steve a little nervous about what’s gonna happen next. 

It swells. Bigger and bigger. Like it’s getting ready to…

Sure enough, the damn thing pops like, well, Steve really isn’t gross enough to use such a metaphor, even here in Jumanji. If that’s where he is right now. All he knows is that he’s covered in gunk and jelly and it’s kind of disgusting. 

“Ew,” he mutters. “That was gross.” 

“C’mon, Cap,” Peter calls as they all head for a spaceship. “Time to go!” 

They all board their ship and, a disgusting mess or not, they start laughing and exchanging high-fives, claiming this to be another victory for the Guardians of the Galaxy. As they take off, they all manage to take a peek out the window and see that the Collector, staring blankly ahead, is sitting in a pile of rubble of what Steve can only assume used to be his coveted collection. He grins. While these Guardians of the Galaxy aren’t exactly by the book, the Collector definitely got what he deserved. 

“Are you sure you must be leaving, Captain America,” Drax asks after Steve is cleaned. “We can use another fine warrior on our team.” 

“Thank you,” Steve says. “But I gotta get back to my, um, team. They need me.”

“Loyalty.” Drax drops a heavy hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Admirable.” 

“Besides,” Peter says. “There’s only room for one specimen per team.”

Everyone goes quiet for a moment. Until Rocket, arms crossed over his chest, shrugs and asks, “And what does that have to do with you, Quill?”

“Really,” Peter deadpans. “That’s how it is.”

Gamora laughs and laces their fingers. Steve didn’t realize until now that they’re a couple. They look nice together. Happy. Like maybe the galaxy sits on their shoulders but sometimes, for just a few moments of stolen time, they’re able to get lost in the absurdity of Peter’s jokes and off-beat dances and soft kisses. 

Jealousy taps Steve on the shoulder. No one’s ever looked at him like that. Or, well, maybe someone has. He shakes the thought away. 

“Anyway.” Steve clears his throat. “Thor said you could take me to--”

“Yes!” Peter exclaims. “Rocket, set a course for Terra so we can get Captain America back to Jumanji.” 

What Steve assumes might take days, actually doesn’t take very long at all. He doesn’t know if that has to do with video game logic, or if it’s just space travel. But he sits down with Drax and Mantis and Groot, and they play some sort of card game that he thinks is something like poker. Just when he thinks he’s got the hang of it, Gamora is telling him that they’re approaching Terra. How clever. 

“Okay, well.” Peter once again takes hold of his arms. “Sorry. Just… Kinda cool. Captain America an’ all.”

“Uh…” Steve scratches the back of his head. Sorta cool, that. Being someone’s idol even if he’s never actually done anything. Though, maybe that’s not exactly true. He did just save them. Helped, anyway. “No worries.” 

“Great. Good luck.” 

Taking a tight hold on his arms now, Peter shoves Steve back. Steve, prepared to fall onto the floor of the ship, tries to brace himself only to keep falling. Above him, all the Guardians of the Galaxy stand in a row, waving as he falls and falls and falls. 


	5. In Which We Discover a Liar and Deceiver

By the time Steve lands with a hard thud onto his back, the spaceship and the Guardians are gone. Steve is back in the jungle. In the sun. In the heat. Bugs already starting to swoop in and bite. Animals making noises. 

Steve pushes off the ground and brushes the dirt off of him. He rubs out his neck, but, to be honest, he’s barely even felt a thing since he’s gotten here. Which is pretty cool. No aches and pains. No allergies. No asthma. Makes getting through this place a little easier. 

“Hello?” he calls out. “Is anyone there?”

“Steve?” Sam. That’s Sam. “Is that you, Steve?”

“Yeah! Sam, over here!”

Steve throws his hand up in the air and starts waving through the trees. The others find him in a matter of seconds. Natasha bursts through the trees and flings her arms around him. 

“You’re okay,” she murmurs. “We were so worried.” 

“Where’d you go?” Clint asks. “Are you hurt or anything?”

“Mm-mm.” Steve shakes his head. “I don’t think so. And, I’m not sure exactly. Someplace. Knowhere, it was called. In space. With the Guardians of the Galaxy.” 

“The who?” Sam asks.

Steve shakes his head. That doesn’t matter. The important part is that they’ve all made it here in one piece. Wherever here is, anyway. 

They explain to him that one second Steve was thrust through some portal that opened to the stars and the next they were all standing here.

“So, I guess we’ve finally made it,” Sam mutters. “What’s the map say now?”

Clint presses the button on his chest to pull the thing out. They all huddle together to look for themselves. Natasha runs her finger along the path once Clint seems to figure out where it is that they’ve ended up. Looks like they need to go to some hut looking thing deeper into the jungle marked as _Avengers_. 

There’s nothing on it that would indicate where Bucky is being kept. Except now there’s also a big place that also looks like it might be a military base. That one’s not marked.

As soon as they make the decision to head in the direction of the hut marked as _Avengers_ , those ominous drums start banging in the distance. 

“Well,” Clint grumbles, “I guess that means we’re supposed to go that way.” 

Before heading on their way, they check their provisions. They still have the Tesseract -- it’d be a damn shame if they lost that along their way -- and the four tokens that Agent 13 gave to them to stop Project Insight. Steve can only assume Project Insight is the next obstacle they have to tackle. 

As they walk, Natasha and Sam stick together again. Stay close while walking. Looks like they might be having a nice conversation. Natasha makes Sam laugh. His cheeks glow when he smiles. It’s nice. 

“So, what about you?” 

Clint comes up behind him and shoves a canteen into his hands. The question, totally out of nowhere, catches Steve off guard. 

“What about me?”

“You got someone that makes you look like that?” he asks. “All smiles and shit?”

Quickly taking a big gulp of water from the canteen, Steve wipes his mouth clean and then hands it back to Clint.

“No. What?” He shakes his head. “What’re you-- no. No, of course not.” 

That only makes Clint laugh. 

“Too shy or too scared?” 

This question comes from up ahead. Asked by Natasha, who gives Steve a cool and easy smile. 

“Too busy,” Steve mumbles. “School. And… stuff.”

“Y’know,” Clint says, “I bet if you asked Barnes out he’d say yes.” 

Up ahead, both Sam and Natasha nonchalantly agree to that but all Steve can do is stop dead in his tracks. All of them, stumbling to a stop by Steve’s reaction to their observation, turn to stare at him. 

“Did you… _not_ know, Steve?” Natasha asks. “It’s kind of obvious.”

“Know what?” he presses. “What’re you guys talking about?”

Sam chuckles. “Man, that guy is _majorly_ into you.”

“ _What_?!” Steve exclaims, high-pitched and squeaky.

Each of them chuckle. Add in their own way that they can’t believe Steve didn’t notice. No matter how hard Steve insists that there’s no way Bucky could have feelings for him, that they’re wrong, that it’s just impossible, they all brush him off. Keep saying that he’s missing the obvious. That the obvious is that _the guy’s been nuts for him forever_. 

“But…” Steve shakes his head and tries reasoning with Sam again. “Why wouldn’t have said anything then?”

“When?” Sam asks. “When you were ignoring him?”

Steve harrumphs and folds his arms across his chest. “It’s not like he made it easy for me _either_.” 

Sam scoffs. “You’re even more stubborn than Riley was.” 

The look on Sam's face when he says that, all cute and glowing, makes Steve think he doesn't care one bit that Riley used to be stubborn. In fact, going on his expression now, he's probably looking back on it with fond memories. Steve doesn't comment any further on the matter. As far as he's concerned, they're way off on the idea of Bucky liking him any more than a friend, but that's the first time Steve can remember Sam bringing Riley up in conversation so nonchalantly like that. 

With the way he and Natasha have been hitting it off, he wonders how that makes him feel inside. Not bad, Steve hopes. While they were never what anyone would call best friends or anything, Steve's sure about one thing. Riley wouldn't want Sam to waste his life away just because he died. Steve saw them together enough to know that much.

“Hey, guys?” Clint says. “I think… I think we’ve got a problem.” 

“What?” Steve asks. “Where are we?” He sighs when he sees the crossroads they’ve ended up at. “Oh now, what the hell is this?”

The map isn’t much help. Or, well, it is. The problem comes from the fact that every road leads to the exact spot they need to get to. They just need to figure out the quickest route there. 

Steve sighs as he takes to tracing his finger along one of the paths. Bucky, he thinks, would have no problems figuring this out. One, two, three. 

“I think…” Natasha's finger joins his. “I think this one’s the shortest way there.” 

“Then that’s the way we’ll go.” 

They head off in that direction. 

Once again, Sam and Natasha pair off together. Steve’s glad. They both look nice together. Happy. 

Steve, on the other hand, trails behind them with Clint, who starts telling him all about his girl back home. Not really his girl, he says. He wishes she was. Laura, he tells Steve her name is. So pretty. Real damn smart. Too good for him, he insists. Steve not sure why. Clint’s plenty smart. Maybe the guy’s not a book genius, but he’s certainly got plenty of street smarts. He goes to tell Clint as much when he notices something. 

“Hey, do you hear that?” Steve asks instead of complimenting Clint as he intended. “Listen.” 

Pausing, Clint turns his head to one side as though trying to get a better listen to whatever it is Steve is hearing. He shrugs. 

“I don’t… hear anything.” 

“Yeah.” Steve nods. “Exactly. What happened to all the noises?”

“The what?”

“The animals? The bugs?” Steve points out. “The wind, even. What happened?”

His comment catches Sam and Natasha’s attention. They both stop and look around, maybe sensing the same thing Steve does. Something’s amiss. 

It happens suddenly. 

Four metal spheres drop from the above and smoke starts pouring out of them. Thick and white and caustic. It itches the back of Steve’s throat and he tries to wave it away, but there’s just so much of it that it’s useless. For everyone else, though… they’re gagging and coughing and their silhouettes fumble about like they can’t see a thing. 

“Guys!” Steve shouts as he tries to back out of this cloud of smoke. “Follow my voi--ow!”

Something knocks him on the back of the head. At the same time, something bright flashes through the smoke and knocks one of the others -- Sam, Steve thinks -- to the ground. The following _aw, what the hell_ _now_ comes from Clint when his ankles are wrapped together in something that he can’t seem to untangle himself from and Natasha, Steve can tell, at least attempted to grab one of her weapons. Now, however, she’s not moving and there’s a glowing red mist circling around her. 

“See, what’d I tell you guys?” someone outside the smoke says. “We were smokin’.” 

Hand still at the back of his head from where it was struck, Steve searches for the source of the voice. Behind him. He takes a deep breath and rolls backwards, hopping back to his feet the instant his vision clears. Steve readies his shield. Readies it for what, he’s not sure, but it’s certainly not what he sees. 

Five people surround them. Five particularly strange looking people which is saying something considering they’re trapped in a video game. 

There are two people dressed head-to-toe in iron suits. Another’s got some sorta red and blue tights number on and he’s literally hanging upside down from a tree. The other two look a bit more normal. A boy and a girl. The boy dressed in gray and silver and the girl dressed in scarlet. 

“I thought you said they wouldn’t be able to see anything?”

This question comes from one of the armored men. The one whose suit is black. The maroon and gold guy answers him. 

“Welp.” He holds a hand out at Steve. “If he’s sending out the big guns for us, gotta use the big guns on them.” 

When his palm opens, Steve realizes what he’s about to do and quickly throws his shield in front of him to block the incoming shot. The blast reflects right off and back at them.

“Okay!” Steve exclaims. “Would you _stop_ attacking me!”

“Hey, just a thought,” Maroon and gold says. “If skull boy stopped sending you to _kill_ us…” 

“Whoa, whoa!” Steve flings a palm up. At least one. “That guy didn’t… we’re here to _stop_ him!”

He scoffs. “Right. Now back t--” 

“Tony.” The black armored guy interrupts him. “Look at him.”

“What?” The face plate of his armor lifts and an older white dude gives Steve a nasty look. “So he’s dancing around in spangly-- _oh_.” 

“Uh, Mr. Stark?” 

They all turns to the boy hanging upside down who now also has an arrow aimed right at his head. 

Whatever shaky truce they might’ve started forming immediately crumbles, the thin thread of peace fraying to nothing. Tony’s helmet closes and the thrusters at his palms and feet lift him into the air. The other guy follows. As Steve tries to indicate that they’re not the real threat while also telling Clint to stand down, Sam pops out of the fog with two guns in his hands. Before anyone can do _anything_ , someone shoots by Steve so quickly he can feel the wind from it and nothing else. 

The arrow Clint had strung to his bow breaks, the boy dressed in gray and silver appearing at his side and chuckling.

“You didn’t see that coming?” 

Distracted by the entire situation, Natasha ceases her moment to kick the girl’s feet out from under her and escape the smoke herself. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Steve gets between everyone before things have the chance to escalate again. “Truce, you guys! We’re the other _party_! We’re here to do the same thing you are!”

“Who the hell are these guys, Steve?” Sam asks. 

Like with Tony’s armor, the smaller boy’s face mask peels back as well. He’s younger than any of them, too. If Steve had to guess, he’d figure he’s still in high school. 

“We’re the Avengers,” he answers as though that should be obvious.

Natasha, holstering one of her guns, helps the girl she knocked down back to her feet. 

“Which I guess,” she says, “makes _us_ the Secret Avengers.” 

Sure. This is all starting to make sense now. There was already a started party before they even started playing the game. This must be them. After Steve explains his theory and Natasha -- and Peter, the spider-like kid -- agree with it, they go about ways of introductions. 

They’ve already established that Tony’s the man in the maroon and gold suit. A man called James Rhodes, who they call Rhodey, is in the black one. The other boy and girl are siblings Pietro and Wanda. Also young. Older than Peter, but still young. 

Then again, maybe Steve needs to remind himself that he’s not all that old either. One day trapped in a video game doesn’t magically turn him from twenty-three to fifty. Or maybe it did. Weirder things have happened lately. This brand new body sure comes in handy. Lets him wrestle snakes and outrun motorcycles and see in otherwise blinding smoke. Maybe there’re perks to being here after all. 

These Avengers take them to a hidden place that they claim no one else has ever come across. As far as they know. It’s a wooden tree fort. Nicely put together even if it’s a little crude. 

“Did you guys make this?” Clint asks when they get there. There are seats. Tables. Real drinks. “How is this…”

“Jumanji’s a weird place, guy,” Rhodey answers. “But no. No, we’re just renting the place.”

“Renting?” Sam asks. “From…?”

“From him.” Wanda points at something behind them. “He built it.” 

Carved into one of the trees in a name. _Alan Parrish_ , it says. Steve runs his fingers along the letters. Next to him, Natasha has leaned her weight against one of the railings. It holds most of it. She looks pale and won’t look at the name on the tree. Steve almost asks if she’s all right until she notices him watching her. 

When she does, she stands up again and gives him a smile. Warm and pleasant and shadowed with secrets. 

“Who’s Alan Parrish?” Steve asks the others instead. “Did you know him?”

Pietro shakes his head. “This was here when we got here.” 

“And just…” Sam clears his throat. “How long _have_ you been here?” 

“Hard to tell,” Wanda replies. Between her fingers is that same strange, scarlet mist as before. “Time works differently here.”

“A few months,” Tony butts in. “We think.” 

Whatever Clint’s been holding, because of course the first thing he would do when being welcomed into someone’s rented out treehouse is start touching their belongings, why not, falls from his hands. 

“ _Months_?” he repeats, nearly choking on the word. “Are you serious?” 

The looks on their faces say enough. They’re very serious. They’ve been stuck on this level for a really long time apparently, too. Have all dropped down to one life each being there.

“We gotta get through this Hydra base,” Tony explains. “But.” He just sighs and pinches between his eyes. 

“We haven’t made it,” Rhodey picks up. “We’ve tried everything but there hasn’t been enough of us.” 

On one of the tables, they have a rough draft of what the base looks like. From the outside mostly. One of Rhodey’s items, apparently. Shows them all the points of infiltration and exits. Certain rooms inside. 

“We can’t figure out what the hell these symbols mean,” Rhodey says, pointing to those on the corners. “Since they’re outlined in gold, we’re pretty sure they’re important.” 

What he’s pointing to, talking about at the four corners, are four animals. An elephant, a rhino, a crocodile, and a monkey. Steve grins and pulls out the four tokens that Agent 13 gave to them. 

“I think we know.” He shows them to Tony and Rhodey. “We got these. They said it would stop Project Insight.”

Peter takes the elephant out of Steve’s hand and turns it over in his fingers before pointing to the spot on the plans. 

“So… what?” he asks. “Do we, like, play match-up or something?” 

“Probably,” Natasha answers. “Puzzles aren’t exactly unheard of in games like this.”

“Well, that’s great,” Pietro chimes in. “Really, it is. But that still leaves the problem of getting in and out of there. I haven’t even done it without losing a life.” 

“What’s with this kid?” Clint asks. “You Superman or something?”

“Nah.” He shakes his head and the spot he was standing in is suddenly empty. As quickly as he vanished, he’s back again, now with a drink in his hand. “But I still don’t think you could keep up, grandpa.” 

So, okay, super-speed. Steve’s got that one down. The downside, Pietro tells them, is that his weaknesses are weapons and fighting. Two iron suits of awesome. Check. Peter -- now that Steve’s seen him crawling up trees and stringing a hammock between two trunks -- spider powers or something. Only one missing. 

“We need to figure out a way inside,” Natasha says as she joins them looking over the prints for the Hydra base. “A fight’s probably unavoidable.” 

“Why do you say that?” Peter asks from up in his spiderweb hammock. “Can’t we just, like, James Bond our way through? Like in ye olden days?”

Instead of answering that, everyone just looks up to stare at him. After a second of that, Steve looks back at Tony.

“How old is this kid?”

Tony shrugs. “I don’t know, it’s not like we can carbon date him.” 

“Oh, c’mon!” Peter exclaims, flipping once and hanging from his feet. “I dunno about that old Connery dude, Pierce Brosnan was kick ass.” 

“Nah, man.” Sam waves his hand. “Brosnan was okay, but Daniel Craig was the best.”

There’s a pause. A look of sheer uninterest from both Wanda and Pietro. Obviously, neither of them care about James Bond. Rhodey doesn’t seem all that interested either, but he does look a little confused. Both Tony and Peter appear completely baffled. 

“Anyway,” Natasha says just as Tony goes to respond to Sam’s statement. “It looks like there’re four entrances on the roof. Probably unguarded.” 

“They are,” Rhodey says. “The only problem is that unless we have four people who can fly up there, they sound the alarm and all hell breaks loose.”

Steve doesn’t have to look at Sam to know that he’s taken a step backward. Putting distance between himself and the planning. But he needs to speak up anyway.

“Do you think you could make it with three?”

“We have three,” Wanda says, propelling herself into the air with the same red mist as before. Huh. Magic user then. Cool. “And no. It still doesn’t work.”

“Then, we need an even four,” Steve assumes and, though he hates to, turns his eyes to Sam. 

Already getting the idea, Sam has his arms pinned to his body and shakes his head. He doesn’t look up. His lips are curled in a disgruntled, firm protest. 

“Nope. Nah-uh. Not happening.” He throws himself into a seat. “Mm-mm. No way.”

“Sam.” Natasha takes his hand. “It’s gotta be you. You’re the only one who can do this.” 

Softer this time, Sam says, “I can’t.” 

“Of course you can,” she replies. “It’s what your character _does_. Once you’re up there, you’ll know what to do.”

“No.” Sam shakes his head. “No, it’s not that. It’s--”

Natasha gently cups his face and murmurs, “You’re not the one who died that day, Sam. This is still _your_ life. You have to live it.” 

Eyes filling with tears, Sam swallows roughly and finally meets her gaze. He sucks in a jagged breath. 

“But I’m scared,” he whispers. “And I miss him.” 

One tear crawls down his cheek. Natasha brushes it away with her thumb before pressing a kiss to his brow. 

“I know. We all are. But we can do this, Sam.” She takes hold of his hands. “And you don’t have to forget him. But you can move on.” 

Dropping his head, Sam sniffles and then wipes his arm across his eyes. He looks back up at Natasha and nods.

“Okay.” He stands. Looks right at Steve. “What’d we do, Cap?”

Grin on his face, Steve turns back to the prints they have. Though he doesn’t really need to. He remembers each and every part of it already. Strange. 

“Okay. I think our best bet is--”

“Uh, hey, Star Spangled Banner?” Tony grunts. “Since when did you become the leader? You’ve been here, what, a whole five minutes and you think you can just come in and boss us around.”

Steve scoffs a laugh. “What do you think you are? Some kind of hero?”

“I never said I was a hero.”

“Then what the hell’s the matter with you?” Steve asks. “For the first time in how long you might be able to get past this level and what you’re worried about is who comes up with the plan?” 

Their bickering, which to be honest, Steve’s not sure what exactly it is that they’re fighting about, leads to something of a domino effect. One by one everyone succumbs to the same argument. Their voices begin to blend together until it’s all just noise. 

“Enough!” Steve exclaims. “We’re supposed to be on the same side here!” 

“Same side?” Tony shakes his head. “Let’s get one thing straight, we’re not teammates or allies. You’re the tourists here.”

“We’re _all_ the tourists here!” Steve shouts back as the others start to pick themselves up and calm down. “Don’t you get it? None of us belong here and we can’t be wasting time fighting amongst ourselves. I know everyone is scared. But if we don’t pull it together, we’ll never go home. We’ll never get to Bucky.” Someone, Peter, Steve thinks, asks who Bucky is. He ignores him and lets someone else answer that. “We have a job to get done. And like it or not, we’ve gotta work _together_ to get out of here. Now.” Steve steps back to the table and gestures to the prints. “Let’s come up with a plan, shall we?”

They all stare at him, silent now. For a second, Steve wonders if maybe any of that came out incorrectly. He only meant for it to get everyone to stop fighting and start working together. 

“Well.” Tony clears his throat. “You were saying?”

They go over and over it. All sorts of scenarios and who should do what and the what-ifs until they finally all agree. How to break in, when to go, everyone’s parts. Though, it does take of time to convince Clint that he should, in fact, be a part of it. 

“I dunno,” he mumbled when Steve pointed out the position he should get to. High up. Good advantage point. “Maybe I should just sit this out.” 

“What?” Steve asked. “Why would you do that?”

Clint held his palms out. “I got Natasha _eaten_. I’m thinkin’ maybe it’s a good idea if I’m not involved with anything anymore.”

“Clint,” Sam said. “If I’m gonna be using a jetpack to fly onto the roof of a base filled with people who want to kill us, then you can do this.”

“Look, let’s face it. I’m just as big’ve a screw up here as I am at home.” 

“Clint, you’re not a screwup.” Steve clapped a hand on Clint's shoulder. “You’ve screwed up. There’s a difference.” 

Apprehension still touched his eyes, but Clint nodded and agreed, accepting his role in their plan. 

Once they’ve agreed that they all understand the plan inside and out, they head for the Hydra base. According to the Avengers, the base is run by a man named Rumlow. More brawn than brain. Not to be underestimated though. 

“Well,” Wanda says as make their way to the base. “I guess we know who we were waiting for.” 

“What’s that mean?” Sam asks. “What we need to make it through,” she replies. “Will come to us in level two.”

Clint snaps his fingers. “Oh! Just like us! What we need to make it through…”

“Waits for us on level two,” Natasha finishes with a chuckle. “Yes, Clint, we got it.” 

“Now we just have to figure out the other part,” Peter says, swinging from branch to branch. “You know, the thing about that old Jim Carrey movie?”

While Tony and Rhodey roll their eyes, Pietro chuckles and Wanda corrects that. 

“Not _Liar, Liar_ ,” she says. “The liar and deceiver. The liar and deceiver is not made of steel; acknowledge this softness for the truth to be revealed.” 

“Wait.” Steve lifts his head. Slowly looks at Wanda. “What did you say?”

She chews the inside of her cheek for a second, glancing around as though maybe she’s said something wrong. 

“Those’re the things that Nick said to us,” she clarifies. “What we need to make it through--”

“No, no,” Steve interrupts. “Not that part. The other part.” 

For a second, Wanda just looks back at her other teammates, confused by what Steve’s asking of her. Until it clicks and she grins. Rather than repeating it herself, Wanda just snaps her fingers and her voice softly plays for them again. 

“The liar and deceiver is not made of steel,” she says, “Acknowledge this softness for the truth to be revealed.” 

“The liar and deceiver,” Steve mumbles to himself. He glares out at Natasha. “ _You_ ,” he snarls, charging at her and backing her into a tree. “What do you know? _Where_ is Bucky?”

She glares right back at him. “I don’t know.”

“Do _better_.”

“I only _act_ like I know everything, Rogers.” 

Steve slams his hand against the tree and pushes away from Natasha with a strained, infuriated growl. Maybe it’s immature, hell, he knows it is, but he starts kicking at the dirt and pulling at his hair. 

“You’re a liar!” he yells at her. “I _trusted_ you! I’ve put my faith in you and you’re a goddamn _liar_!”

“All right, Steve, let’s just take it easy,” Sam says. “We don’t even know what’s going on.” 

“Exactly!” Steve exclaims. “Because _she_ didn’t tell us! She withheld what could’ve been valuable information from us and for what? Because--”

“Because I liked the way you looked at me.” 

Natasha’s voice, soft, but firm, raises above the rest of them. When Steve looks at her, Natasha drops his gaze. She shrugs and sighs. Wipes a little at her eyes though Steve’s never actually seen any tears there. 

“You’ve never looked at me differently,” she says. “I know you know what I did.” Natasha clears her throat. “Yeah, I killed my boyfriend. After two years of him beating on me, I put an end to it. And it’s never seemed to bother you. I didn’t want that to change.” 

Steve waits. He can’t bring himself to yell anymore. She seems so sincere. Steve doesn’t want to cause her any pain. 

“Look, after all that mess I started digging around on the darknet a lot.” She shrugs. “Because everywhere I went, people gave me these… these _looks_. So I stayed places where no one would know who I was. That’s where I came across these rumors.” 

“And what rumors would those be?” Sam asks. “About what?”

A game, is what she tells them. A board game from the 1800s that was said to be cursed. It happened to end up in the Americas around 1869 and stayed dormant for the next hundred years. The idea is that it resurfaced again around 1969 when a pair of children, Alan Parrish and Sarah Whittle played it next. 

It came about again in 1995 when siblings, Judy and Peter Shepherd get ahold of it, having moved into the old Parrish household. 

There was a difference, though, Natasha explains. Back then, the game’s antics were brought out into the _real_ world. Only one person, till then, had ever been sucked into the game. Alan Parrish. 

With the aid of Sarah, Judy, and Peter, they finished the game and put everything right again. 

“Okay, so we’re talking some old school board game,” Tony says. “Who even plays those anymore?”

“Well, that’s the thing,” Natasha says. “The idea is that this… _thing_ … Jumanji… it… modifies or whatever to fit what’s best for the times. Back in the early 2000s, it’s said it changed into a video game and sucked some kid inside of it. About twenty years later, a bunch of high school students got sucked in after.”

“So, what you’re saying,” Tony remarks. “Is that this game upgrades tech as we upgrade tech?” 

Natasha nods. “It feels that way. Stories, too. No two stories are ever the same.” 

Glands too big for his throat, Steve pushes fingers into his eyes to rid them of the tears gathering. He sniffles and looks at her again. 

“Did you know?” he asks. 

“What?”

“Did you know?” he repeats. “About Hydra? And the Winter Soldier? Did you know that they’d be after him?”

Sad eyes blink once before she shakes her head. “No, Steve. I knew they wanted something, but I had no idea they’d be after one of us.”

Steve nods. “I believe you. And I’m… I’m sorry I yelled. I shouldn’t’ve done that.” 

“I should’ve told you guys right away,” she replies. “Everything I knew. Maybe Bucky wouldn’t’ve…”

Steve shakes his head. He doesn’t want to think about the would’ve, could’ve, should’ves. There’s no telling what would have happened so there’s no point in dwelling on it. Besides, if Steve does, he’s going to get angry. Instead of sad. Which is what he really is, but he doesn’t want to admit that. 

Instead of commenting any further, they just continue on their way. As they do, Steve’s pretty sure he hears Tony ask _Okay, seriously, who the hell is Bucky_? 

***

Everyone’s been incredible. Tony, Rhodey, Wanda, even Sam -- who’s most definitely gotten over his fear and swoops through the air with a laugh in the back of his throat like he was born for it -- flying over to the base and getting inside first. Pietro flew in next, though by flying over land and by foot. One second he’s there, the next he’s gone before Steve can even tell him to go and the guards out by the front door and knocked out. Once they’re taken care of, Peter swings in to web up all the agents he can while Steve, Natasha, and Clint break in through side windows while all the attention is on the front.

The three of them and Rhodey each have one of the tokens. It’s sheer pandemonium. At the same time, everything is going according to plan. Wanda’s magic literally stops Hydra agents right in their tracks while Pietro keeps her guarded. Peter, in the meantime, strings them up one by one, until one man comes in that nearly puts a stop to everything. 

“I take it that’s Rumlow?” Steve asks. 

“Yup,” Tony replies. “There’s big, bad, and brooding.” 

The big baddie of this level. He looks _pissed_. Jaw tight. Eyes flaming. Scars across his face. 

“Call it, Cap.”

Steve nods.”

“We don’t have time for him,” Steve says. “We gotta take care of this first.”

“C’mon, Legolas.” Tony grabs Clint by the back of the shirt as he fires another arrow. “I’ll give you a lift.”

Each and every one of the tokens’ slots are up high enough that it’s easier and quicker for someone to fly. Strategically, it’s also best to have an aerial attack going on at the same time. Which is why Rhodey swoops in and searches for where he needs to place his token. At the same time, Wanda propels Natasha into the air where she makes her way to the catwalk, same as Clint as they find their appropriate slot.

“Sam!” Steve calls as he runs and a jumps from the second story. He has the elephant. All the way at the farthest end of the base. “I’m gonna need a ride!”

Sam, really coming out of his shell and kicking some serious ass, shoots a few Hydra agents out of the way. 

“Just tell me when!” 

“I just did!”

“Jesus, kid!”

Unable to help himself, Steve actually laughs as he falls, fully confident that Sam is going to catch him before he hits the ground. Which he does. Sam grabs Steve’s outstretched hand and brings them both to the nearest catwalk. 

“Y’know,” Sam says once they land, “you’re a lot heavier than you look.”

“I’ve put on a lot’ve weight since breakfast.” 

Sam chuckles and starts to say something in response to Steve's wit, but is suddenly yanked backward by his jetpack. Before Steve can react, he's being shoved off the catwalk, managing to grab onto it at the very last second. 

“Steve!” Sam shouts and tries to come help Steve.

Only whoever attacked them hasn't backed down. He shoots at Sam with some sort of grappling hook and tears one of the wings in half. Steve watches in horror as Sam crashes and loses another life. 

Down below, as Sam's health points replenish, Steve lifts himself back onto the catwalk. He leans over the side to make sure Sam is really okay.

“Sam?”

“Yeah, I'm good.” He waves Steve on. “But I think I should help out over there.”

He jerks a thumb all the way back to where Peter and Pietro are currently trying to take on Rumlow. They're not a bad match for him, but an extra set of fists might come in handy. Heh. Too bad snappy lines aren't a part of Steve's character. Bucky would like that one.

“Yeah okay.” Steve gives him a quick salute. “We'll take care of these guys.”

The last thing Steve hears Sam say as he runs to look for the right slot isn't to him but to Rumlow. It's pretty badass, too.

“Man, shut the hell up.”

A punch follows. Steve can only hope it's Sam who throws it. He can't really turn to check. There's someone else up on this catwalk with him. 

Steve had assumed it had been a random Hydra agent that had attacked him and Sam just a few moments ago. He never expected this. Not… no. He slows to a stop and just stares for a second. Stares at the person glaring back at him.

“Bucky?”

A shiver runs up Steve's spine. This can't be happening. Not this kind of storyline. He knows it all too well. 

The innocent person. Taken by the villain. Maybe they had a bit of darkness in them. The villain twists and warps that darkness until the once innocent character's heart is just dripping with it. Until their soul is scrambled about and put back inside as something else. Until they don't even resemble the person they were when the main character knew their sweet smile and bright eyes and infectious laugh.

Bucky, gun in hand, aims right at Steve. Steve quickly hides behind his shield but that only covers so much of him at once.

“No!” he exclaims. “Bucky! It's me! It's Steve!”

Like Steve hasn't said a word Bucky cocks the gun and says, “Who the hell is Steve?”

He squeezes the trigger. 

Steve, so shocked by the shot, doesn’t dodge it in time and gets hit right in the gut. Pain ripples through his entire body. Steve staggers. The world spins around him. Blurry. Someone shouts his name. He doesn’t know who. Steve falls to his knees. Looks down the barrel of a gun. He closes his eyes. 


	6. In Which It’s Raining Villains

Dying sucks. 

Everything is dark.

Everything is silent. 

Everything is cold. 

Good thing it’s only a video game and seconds later Steve is falling from, well, he has no idea where, but he lands in that probably bad for his knees superhero pose right back on the catwalk. 

“Okay,” he grunts to himself as his life count changes from three to two. “That was a dick move, Barnes.”

Steve stands up straight. The token is back in his pocket. He pulls it out and turns for the slot again. Only he can’t go anywhere. All the end of the catwalk, Bucky is blocking the way. He stands there facing off with him. Eyes ready to kill.

“C’mon, Buck,” he pleads. “Don’t make me _do_ this. Please.”

When Bucky does nothing but continue to glare, a whine gets stuck in the back of Steve’s throat. If he’s going to get this task completed, he has to do something. Steve grabs the shield off his back and flings it right at Bucky. Bucky blocks it with his left arm as Steve charges forward. 

Every time he tries to get closer to the slot for the token, Bucky keeps shoving him back. Hard. He’s fighting to hurt. To mame. To kill. All Steve wants to do is get passed the damn guy.

So far, in order to do that, Bucky’s made him toss him over his shoulder. Slide across the floor. Steve’s dropped the elephant token and had to struggle to get it back. He has to pull his right arm back, holding his left arm down and put him in a chokehold just so he can finally get the damn thing again. 

It doesn’t help that Steve really isn’t fighting all that hard. This is _Bucky_. Video game or not, it’s still _Bucky_ and Steve can’t bring himself to fight him for real. He doesn’t want to hurt him.

Not even when Bucky brings out a knife and is literally trying to stab him. In the heart, it feels like. But he still needs to stop him. Unfortunately, it also comes with knocking Bucky out.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says, starting to get up while also trying to check and make sure he hasn’t really hurt Bucky. “I… I’m s-sorry, Bucky, just… stay here… you’ll be… fine…”

He backs away slowly and then spins around to run for the catwalk again. Steve needs to get back up there since during his struggle with Bucky they flipped over the handrail. Once he’s close enough, Steve jumps to grab onto the bottom. The second he’s hanging and about to pull himself up, another shot echoes through the base. 

Heat and pain radiates up Steve’s leg as the bullet digs right into his thigh. One hand loses the grip he has and he almost falls, but Steve regains it again and manages to pull himself back onto the catwalk. As soon as he starts to run again, another bullet hits him in the back of the shoulder, nearly spinning him around. 

Behind him, Bucky, clearly still recovering from Steve knocking him out, staggers to the side with his gun still pointed at him.

“Damn it, Bucky!” Steve shouts. “Stop fucking shooting me!”

He keeps running for the slot. Steve knows he’s got to get it in just right. Facing the right direction. Which means Steve needs to move around the column just right. When he does, the gun shoots one last time. 

Steve can’t breathe. He wants to be sick. He glances down to his belly where his hand is covered in blood. Steve tries to cough. Can’t. The elephant token almost falls from his fingers as he slips to the ground, barely about to keep himself upright. 

All the other token are in place. Everyone else starts to come their way. No. No, Steve can’t let them. This is his fight. He needs to finish this. 

“No…” he groans. 

Steve can’t let them get near him and Bucky. Bucky might hurt them. They might hurt Bucky. Gathering whatever strength remains, Steve hurls his arm up and moves his hand around until the elephant finally slips into place. 

Alarms start to ring. Lights start to flash. The walls start to crumble. Whosever left of Hydra starts to run. 

Above Steve, the health points that had started decreasing begin increasing again. The wound in his gut is closing. 

“Steve!”

He looks up. Flying toward him is Sam. Right behind him is Tony and Rhodey. Not far behind them, Wanda is helping Natasha while all the way in the back Peter, Clint, and Pietro are still fighting Rumlow. 

“No!” Steve shouts. “Just go! Get out of here!”

“But, Steve…”

Steve shakes his head at Sam and waves them on. Sam tries to argue once again only to have Tony grab him by the wrist and drag him away. There’s arguing, Steve can hear that, but thankfully, along with Natasha, Tony gets everyone to leave. 

For just one moment, Steve thinks he’s in a crumbling building alone with Bucky. Until he hears more voices. Steve picks himself up and looks over the railing to see four men -- Rumlow being one of them -- surrounding Bucky. 

“Hey!” Steve yells. “Get away from him! Now!”

The only one who doesn’t look up at him is Bucky. Not even when Steve leaps down from the catwalk and heads for them. 

One of the men, in a suit and tie of all things, doesn’t seem all that fazed that Captain America is coming for them. 

“Rumlow,” he says. “Take care of that.” 

Rumlow steps away from Bucky. “With pleasure. This is for dropping a helicopter on my face.”

“Yeah, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Steve deadpans. “But I _am_ pretty sure I’m kinda good at fighting.”

The only response he gets to that is a _really_ pissed off look and a right-hook headed for his face. But Steve parries the punch and blocks the following jab. He even laughs when he ducks under Rumlow's attempted roundhouse. 

Upright again, he lands a few punches of his own. A jab here. A cross there. Even a front kick. But when he sees that the other three are starting to leave with Bucky, Steve has finish this up quick. He tries an uppercut and manages to toss Rumlow right over the side railing of the second story. 

“See!” he shouts as Rumlow falls. “I told ya I could fight!”

Steve looks up. Sees that Bucky is leaving with two of the other men now while the man in the suit gives Steve a vulgar sneer. 

“Captain Rogers.” He shakes his head as though disappointed by something. “What a waste.”

“Who the hell _are_ you?”

“I’m Alexander Pierce, Head of Hydra’s Intelligence Agency. But that doesn’t matter.” He points a gun. “Hail Hydra.”

Oh, Steve _really_ doesn’t want to get shot again. He reaches around for his shield, hoping to block the bullet when a gun is suddenly fired right next to his ear. 

The shot is so freaking loud that Steve can hear nothing but a horrible, high-pitched ringing out of that ear as he staggers to the left in an attempt to escape it. In front of him, that Alexander Pierce dude bursts and video game disappears. So, okay, that’s good. Steve stands back up with a finger wiggling in his ear and stepping to the side to see Natasha. 

“Natasha?” Steve asks. “I thought I told you to leave.”

She shrugs. “And I didn’t listen.”

They’re already walking briskly after Bucky and the other men. 

“Well…” Steve holds his hand up. “Thanks for not listening.”

Smirking, Natasha gives him a high-five. “What sort’ve liar and deceiver would I be if I did?”

“Only the best. You got the two lackeys?”

“Not a problem.” She’s already got her gauntlets powered on. “You get your man. Hey, fellas.” 

“Steady now, Soldier.” 

That one’s Colonel Karpov. The other one hides directly behind Bucky.

“Focus, Soldier,” he says while spinning a ring around his finger. “And get me out of here.” 

“Not today,” Steve says and grabs them by the necks of their shirts, yanking them away from Bucky and shoving them toward Natasha. “Bucky! Bucky, come on, wake up!”

Fear and confusion wrap their ugly claws all over Bucky. He grabs at his head and shakes. He glances back up at Steve, still afraid. Steve holds a hand out. Bucky flinches like Steve might hurt him. 

“I won’t hurt you,” Steve says. “You _know_ me.”

“No.” Bucky shakes his head. “I don’t.” 

“Bucky,” Steve pleads, “you’ve known me your whole life.”

When Steve takes a step forward, Bucky quickly backs away and hides behind his arms. This isn’t good. The entire place is coming down around them. If Steve doesn’t get them out of there soon, they’re going to lose another life. And Steve doesn’t know how many Bucky has left. 

“I’m not gonna fight you.” Steve slowly puts his shield to the ground. “I’m your friend.” 

Tears plummet from Bucky’s eyes, that heartbreaking confusion cutting deeper and tearing him apart.

“You’re my mission,” he whispers.

“Then finish it.” Steve fills the space between them. Gently cups the sides of Bucky’s face. “Cause I promise, Bucky, when we get out of here, I’ll be with you to the end of the line.” 

Expression changing from confusion to shocked, Bucky freezes and gapes at Steve, eyes wide and jaw dropped. He trembles beneath Steve’s palms as recognition slowly begins to fill his eyes. 

“St-Steve?”

Steve manages a wet, shaky laugh. He can’t help it. He wipes at his eyes to make sure no tears fall. 

“Yeah.” He nods. “Yeah, Bucky, it’s me. It’s Steve.”

Bucky glances around. Tired, maybe. Still very confused, only now in a very different way and for a very different reason. 

“What’re we… where are we?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Steve says. They’re the only ones left now that Natasha’s taken care of the others. “Let’s get outta here.”

First stepping on his shield and flipping it back up to him, Steve takes hold of Bucky’s wrist to lead him to the nearest exit. After only two steps he feels the floor give way beneath his foot. 

“Steve!” Bucky yells and takes the best grip he can on Steve’s hand. “Steve, hang on!”

It’s clear Bucky’s not going to leave without him. Steve sucks in a deep breath and uses all his strength to pull himself back up while Bucky lifts. 

Once Steve is back up they run across to the nearest staircase to find that only two steps down it’s completely torn apart. Down below, there’s fire everywhere. More explosions go off. It’s getting much too hot for them to stand there. 

“Steve,” Bucky says. “We can’t stay here.”

“Come on.” He points to the other staircase. “Up there.” 

Steve makes Bucky go first. Wants to watch his back the way he failed to do two levels ago. The way he hasn’t been all these years. The way Bucky wanted to for Steve and Steve hadn’t let him. 

The hand grabbing his shoulder wakes him from his culpable thoughts. Steve shakes his head and realizes he was just about to cross a footbridge. Which wouldn’t necessarily be a problem except that there’s someone _else_ on the other side. 

“Oh, now who the _fuck_ is _this_ guy?” 

“Steve,” Bucky grunts, “The guy has a red skull for a face. It’s a safe bet to say he’s the Red Skull.”

On any other, that day, this might be strange. But today, Steve’s been sucked into a video game and turned into a jacked superhero and attacked by snakes, terrorist nazi groups, a giant wolf, a magic woman, space guns, and now _this_ guy shows up.

“Captain America,” the Red Skull. “We meet at last, how exciting! I am a _great_ fan of your work.”

As he steps onto the footbridge to come closer to them, Steve does the same, making sure to keep Bucky protected. 

“We’re just trying to go home,” Steve says. 

“You’ve been impressive so far,” he answers. “Just give me the cube and you can leave.” 

Steve shakes his head. “I don’t think I can do that.” 

“Pity,” the Red Skull replies. “Then you must die.” 

The fist comes at his quick and hard. Steve, ready for the hit, takes it with the shield, but it’s so strong that the impact throws him back. 

“Hey, hey.” Bucky’s already there helping him back to his feet. “You all right?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Where’d he go?”

They both look across the bridge. The Red Skull is gone. To make matter worse, the bridge is separating, coming apart in the middle. 

“Shit,” Bucky mutters. “Now whadda we do?”

“Over there, look.” Steve points to where there’s a fallen beam several yards away. “Maybe we can make it across that.” 

They run. Now that they’ve three stories up, it looks a hell of a lot higher than before. Still, if they’re going to make it out of this place without losing another life each -- and even if they do, Steve can’t guarantee that they won’t just end up right back within these fiery walls anyway -- they’ve got to cross. Helping Bucky over first, Steve keeps his hands on his hips to assist with his balance for as long as he can. 

“You’ve got this, Bucky,” he says. “You can do this.”

“Steve…” Bucky says, arms apart for balance and knees shaky. “Did I ever tell you I have a horrible fear of heights?” 

“You don’t have time to be scared right now, Buck,” Steve answers. “Besides, that’s Sam’s thing in here. You’re indecisive and a perfectionist.” 

“Did I ever tell you you were a dick?”

“Constantly.” Steve grins. “You got this, buddy.” 

He’s already almost to the other side. Because in here, he still might be afraid of heights, but he's got the balance and skill of the Winter Soldier. Bucky's almost within arm’s reach of the other end when the beam beneath his feet shifts just enough that he needs to jump. He climbs over it just in time for both him and Steve to watch as it falls into the fire pits below them. Bucky, face full of desperation to get Steve to that side with him, grips the side rail and shakes his head, his mind clearly racing to come up with ideas. 

“There’s gotta be a rope or something!” 

“Bucky, just go!” Steve shouts back. “Just go, get out of here!”

“No!” Bucky screams. “Not without you!”

Damn. He’s really not going anywhere without him. And Steve isn’t about to let him be burned to a crisp just because he couldn’t get across a stupid fire pit of death. Well. Guess there’s only one thing left to do. 

Steve’s always wanted to double jump in real life. This’ll be his closest shot to really doing it. First making sure he’s cleared enough room from himself, Steve backs up all the way and fucking goes for it… 

***

Behind them, the base explodes. The heat and force of it as they run pushes them up into the air. From next to him, Steve hears Bucky scream as they fall. It’s almost as loud as his own. They land with a hard thud and scramble to get back to their feet. 

For a second, they just stare at the burning building. Then, they glance at each other, and Steve isn’t quite sure why, but they both just break down laughing. 

“Did you just blow that building up?” Bucky asks between hysterics. 

“Hey!” Steve laughs. “I had help!” 

“I cannot believe you _jumped_ that!”

“Well what the hell was I supposed to do?” Steve gives him a playful shove. “ _You_ wouldn’t leave! And what the hell was I gonna do with a rope, anyway? _Hang_ myself with it?”

Bucky scoffs. “I was thinking, more along the lines of _swinging_ across with it!” 

“Oh, and you…” Steve drops his voice to imitate Bucky. “Steve… I’m afraid of heights…! Could you pick a freaking _better_ time?” 

“Hey, that’s the _last_ time I share something with _you_ , Captain.” 

Giggling -- outright giggling, because Bucky’s here and he’s okay and he’s poking fun just like old times -- Steve pulls him into his arms and hugs him tight. It’s the one and only time he’s ever been able to do such a thing. Bucky, even though he’s by no means a small man, even here, is still cradled in his arms. It feels nice. Knowing that he’s safe. Right here. Right against Steve. 

“Hey,” Steve whispers. “You’re okay now, Bucky.” 

Bucky nods. “Yeah. What happened, anyway?”

“Nothing. It doesn’t matter. You’re okay. That’s what’s important.”

“Yeah, but…” Bucky moves away and rubs at his head. “I feel, like, did I shoot you?”

Already fixing himself up to meet with everyone else, Steve takes a drink of water and offers some to Bucky. Bucky doesn’t exactly take a drink. He just takes the canteen and stands there with it in his hands. 

“Oh yeah.” Steve nods. “A bunch of times.” 

***

No matter how much Bucky bugs him for the full story, Steve refuses to give it to him. He just doesn’t think he needs to hear the whole thing. What good, really, will it do to know that he turned on them because some evil villains got into his brain. 

None, seriously. 

So even with Bucky pestering him to give him more details than _they kidnapped and poisoned you_ , Steve keeps trying to defect.

“Seriously, Buck,” Steve says as they hike through tall grass and over the tall hills to get to everyone else. “It’s not a big deal.” 

“It’s gotta be a big deal,” Bucky replies. “Especially if you’re not _telling_ me.”

“I'm not telling you cause there’s nothing to tell.” 

“Well, the last thing I remember is being in that doctor’s place and not feeling good.” He rubs at his head. Steve, probably being way too overprotective, makes him drink more water. “Next thing I know, we’re in some crazy on-fire building with a whole lot of other people. You’re shot to hell. Everyone _else_ is waiting for us somewhere else.”

“Okay? And?”

Bucky snorts. “Call me paranoid--”

“You’re paranoid.”

“--but you’re really shitty at storytelling if you want me to believe that’s all that happened.” 

Sighing, Steve slows and gently takes Bucky by the wrist. He pulls him in closer. Almost invading personal space. Almost. 

“There’s nothing to tell,” Steve says, “because there’s _nothing_ to tell.”

Bucky, nibbling on his lip which, in his current get-up, makes him look even more adorable than usual, eyes him suspiciously. 

“ _Nothing_?”

With Bucky looking at him that way, it makes it a little harder to lie about this. But Steve really doesn’t want him to worry about what happened. It happened. It over. None of it matter because it wasn’t real. So he fixes a smile on his face and tucks some hair behind Bucky’s ear. 

“Nothing,” he whispers. “I promise.” His eyes wander over Bucky’s face. His eyes. His lips. His hair. Steve lets his fingers comb through his hair. The source of earlier panic. “Y’know, I kinda like your hair like this.” 

Face lighting up as though Steve’s paid him the greatest compliment of all time, Bucky nearly giggles. 

“You… you do?”

Steve nods. The color Bucky’s cheeks have turned looks good on him. He likes it. Likes even more that he’s the one who put it there. 

“Yes. It looks good on you.” 

Before he can move his hands away, Bucky presses his own against them, keeping them right where they are. Funny. Steve’s so used to looking up at everyone that it’s strange to look down at Bucky now. 

“What?” Steve asks when Bucky cracks an amused grin. “What’s that look for?”

“Nothing,” he says. “I just remember you being smaller.” 

Steve scoffs. “Maybe you just weren’t as big as you thought.”

Those big, beautiful eyes roll and still land right back on Steve.

“So then,” Bucky says, “if there's nothing to tell…” He skims the very tips of his fingers -- both flesh and metal -- over Steve's knuckles. “what's happening here?”

“What's happening?” Steve looks at his feet. Shuffles them in the grass. “For a minute there I thought I'd lost my best friend. This time for good. And I started thinking I about all the things I never got to tell you.”

If they hadn't been in each other's space before, they sure are now. Heat collides between them. The sun and moon and all the stars glowing.

“And what…” Bucky swallows roughly. “What did you want to tell me?”

Still not sure if he can say the words out loud, not even after all this, Steve coaxes Bucky's chin up just slightly. Bucky must know why. His pupils are totally blown. Thing is, Steve's never done this before. Sure, he's been kissed and he's had his fair share of hookups, but this is Bucky Barnes. The person Steve's loved since he understood what love meant to him.

He’s going to kiss Bucky. Right now. Steve is going to show Bucky what he’s too afraid to tell him. He leans in. Bucky’s eyes close. 

“There you are!” 

Eyes popping open, Bucky gasps while Steve jerks away as though about to be caught doing something very naughty. Coming over the top of the hill is Clint. 

“We were getting worried!” He goes on shouting. “We’ve been waiting for you… what’re you doing?”

Bucky’s cheeks are still pink. He scratches the back of his head and staggers over an awkward chuckle. 

“Nothing, Barton,” Steve mumbles. “Thank you.”

Clint looks between the two of them. He does this a few times before his eyes light up as if his brains has clicked into place. 

“Oh.” He shakes his head. “ _Oh_. Oh… Oops. Sorry.” 

“For what?” Steve shakes his head and starts off in the same direction Clint just came from. “You didn’t do anything.” 

The rest of the team is just on the other side of the hill. He can hear them talking. Peter’s excited. Rhodey is telling him to calm down, but he’s flipping off a boulder over and over because always wanted to see what’s on the other side of that stupid Hydra base. Wanda is all smiles as she magically freezes him upside down while in the middle of another flip. Everyone laughs. 

“Who… who _are_ all those people?” Bucky asks. “How did we double our group?”

“It’s a long story,” Steve says. 

“Hey!” Clint shouts from behind them. “Look who I found!” 

When he catches everyone’s attention, they’re met with grinning faces and waves and playful mockings. _Sure took you long enough! We’re getting old here! You’re already old, Tony. Shut up!_

They only run into a small problem. As they get closer, with Bucky walking right behind Steve, the second the others notice him, their faces fall. It’s Tony that leaps into action. He zooms over with his blasters charged on high. 

“What’re you doin’, Tony?!”

“Get down, Steve!” Tony yells. “This is our chance!” 

Before giving Steve a chance to reply or really take in what he’s about to do, Tony takes his shot. Right at Bucky. Without even really thinking, Steve flings the shield to Bucky, who catches it as though already knowing it was coming. He deflects the blast and tosses it back to Steve who hurls it at Tony to keep him from shooting again. 

“What the hell’re you doing?” Steve shouts. “Why’re you shooting at him?” 

“Are you kidding?” Tony shoves a finger at Bucky. “That’s the Winter Soldier! Hydra’s assassin! The guy that’s been shooting at us for _weeks_!” 

Everything freezes. Bucky’s crept closer to Steve. A hand has clenched the back of his uniform. 

“That…” Steve shakes his head. “That doesn’t make sense. We’ve only been here a day…” 

“None of this makes sense, Steve,” Tony growls. “I told you, time works differently here. Now, if you don’t mind…”

He raises his palm, ready to shoot at Bucky again. Behind him, Bucky tenses. Steve stays right where he is. 

“I _do_ mind.” Steve’s jaw clenches. “He’s my _friend_.” 

“Oh, so, what?” Tony scoffs. “We’re just supposed to keep him around and hope he doesn’t go all Total Recall on us?”

“He’s not gonna hurt anyone.”

“He _killed_ you!”

“It wasn’t his fault!” Steve yells. “Hydra had control of his mind!”

The grip on Steve’s shirt suddenly gets tighter. Bucky gasps and shouts Steve’s name. At the very top of the hill is Rumlow. Bucky pushes away from Steve when Rumlow throws something. Whatever it is, lands at Bucky’s feet. A grenade. He kicks it to Steve who covers it with his shield. 

But Rumlow has more. Half the others can’t come this way, they only have one life left. Which is why everyone else hops in front of them. But when Tony catches the next one thrown, he doesn’t get rid of it quite quick enough. It goes off just as he tosses it. Tony’s faceplate, Steve worries, was still open. 

“Bucky!” Steve shouts and tosses the shield. “Here!”

Bucky catches it and flings it at Rumlow as Steve runs in that direction. The shield flies by Steve and knocks Rumlow right in the back of his head. Rumlow goes down. Steve catches the shield as it comes back to him. Keeps running and snags Rumlow by the front of the shirt before he gets the chance to get away. Bucky catches up to them seconds later. Gun at the ready.

“Go help your friend, Steve,” he says. “I got this son of a bitch.”

“You--”

“I _remember_ him,” Bucky grunts. Closes his eyes when Rumlow sneers at him. “I remember him.” 

“Bucky, are you sure--”

“It’s just a video game, Steve,” he says. To be honest, there’s a hell of a lot more darkness in his voice than Steve’s ever thought possible. He can’t even begin to imagine what it is that he remembers. “I’ll be fine.” 

“‘Kay,” Steve whispers. He turns to run and cringes when he hears bones cracking behind him. 

Back by Tony, Rhodey has yanked the faceplate of Tony’s armor off while Wanda desperately tries to get him to wake up. He’s not dead yet. Above him, though, the number one is slowly fading away. 

“He’s not responding to anything,” Wanda says. “I don’t know what to do.”

“CPR.” Steve pushes his way through them and drops to his knees next to Tony. “We have to do CPR.”

There’s only one problem. Well, two. First, Steve doesn’t know the proper way to administer CP. Second, Tony’s wearing armor. Kind of hard to do chest compressions when he can’t compress the chest. 

“I... I can’t--”

“Hang on,” Rhodey says. “I got it.” 

He crouches down and rips the breastplate apart. 

“Start with two breaths,” Sam instructs. “Then thirty compressions.” 

Not even questioning what he’s been told, Steve just does it. He listens when Pietro and Wanda -- who apparently both served as medics in the Sokovian armed forces for a year right out of high school -- tell him to make certain. His chin is tilted too high. Too low. He’s breathing into his belly, not chest. 

Soon enough, Steve’s gotten a proper rhythm going and he’s telling Tony to hurry and wake up. Just wake the hell up. 

“Steve! Steve, wait!”

It’s Bucky who shouts, but it’s Natasha who clarifies just why the sudden need for the urgent haste. 

“Look.” She points above him. Where a number two is gradually turning into a number one. “You’re giving him one of your lives.”

Heart thudding, Steve wipes an arm across his brow and looks up at what they’ve pointed out for no longer breath before going back to the set of compressions he’s been in the middle of doing.

“I don’t care,” he says. “I’m making sure that _all_ of us come home. Every single _one_ of us. Come on, Tony. Wake up. Just _wake_ \--” 

Tony wakes with an abrupt, painful sounding gasp. His eyes pop open. He coughs and jerks away as though unsure what’s happening. 

“What the hell…” He shakes his head. “What happened? Oh, man, did someone have to make out with me?”

Falling back on his butt, Steve heaves out a relieved chuckled as Rhodey helps Tony sit up and Wanda and Pietro check on his well-being. Peter uses some webbing to stop some bleeding on Tony’s shoulder. Clint takes out some rations from their reserves and gives him something to eat. Natasha has water for him. 

“No, but, seriously,” Tony says after another drink, “did I make out with anyone? At least let it’ve been the hot redhead.”

Off to the side, Natasha flips him off. Although she’s Natasha Romanoff, and obviously is in no need of protecting, Sam still stands and holds his hands out on her behalf. 

“C’mon, man, really?” he asks. “Besides, it was the sexy blonde who made out with you.” 

A blush crawls across Steve’s face as Tony slowly turns his gaze on him. Steve’s also pretty sure that’s the first time anyone’s ever called him sexy. If they have, it’s never been to his face. 

“You?”

“Hey!” Clint objects. “I’m blonde! Why assume it’s him?”

“Barton.” Natasha rubs between her eyes but chuckles as she lobs a bit of dirt at him. “Can you give Steve his moment of glory. He _literally_ just gave Tony one of his lives.” 

Tony’s eyes go wide at that. For a second, he just stares, speechless and maybe a little touched, Steve thinks. 

“You… you gave up a life for me?”

Steve picks at some grass. Drops the blades over his shoes as he pulls his knees up to his chest. He shrugs.

“I mean… yeah.”

“But…” Tony wipes Steve’s shoes clean. “Why? What if you need it for yourself?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Steve answers. “I want everyone to come home.” Speaking of which. Steve quickly looks around. His heart sinks. “Where… where is Bucky?”

He’s on his feet before they can even assure him that Bucky’s fine. That he’s just gone beyond those trees to refill the canteens. He’s all by himself though. Steve doesn’t like that. He’s not so sure the words _I’m gonna get him_ actually get past his lips, but he tries. If they didn’t hear it -- or if he just couldn’t get it out -- they’re smart enough to figure out what he’s doing. 

The trees aren’t all that far away. Steve can hear the babbling brook as soon as he reaches them. Bucky crouched down by it. Canteens right next to him, but he’s not filling them. Instead, he dips his hand in and drinks out of it, then dunks the same hand in, scoops water out and tries to dump it over his head but doesn’t do a very good job. Mostly, it just slips down his metal arm. That probably doesn’t do much to cool him off. 

Steve doesn’t announce his presence but he also doesn’t try to sneak up on Bucky either. The poor guy’s been through enough in just a few hours. And that’s _not_ including being sucked into a video game. A twig snaps beneath Steve’s foot. 

The noise must startle Bucky. He twirls to his feet and has a gun pointed at Steve before Steve can even tell himself what’s happening. 

“Whoa.” Steve holds his palms out. “Easy, Sarge. It’s just me.” 

Without a word, Bucky grunts and holsters the gun before simply turning back to the water and crouching down again. Thing is, the look on Bucky’s face _before_ he turned around, well, Steve’s never been on the receiving end of such a hard, _furious_ expression before. Not from Bucky anyway. Bucky’s livid.

“Bucky?” Steve asks as he takes a cautious, very measured step closer. “Are you… are you okay?”

“Oh, sure,” Bucky snaps. “I’m just great. Especially for a guy who just found out he’s been attacking his friends and actually _killed_ one of them. Not to mention the fact that the one person who I’ve _asked_ about it straight up _lied_ right to my face. But, yeah, cool, I’m awesome.” 

“Bucky…”

“Y’know, I’ve known you for a long ass time, Steve Rogers,” he says, “and over the past several years shit went on, fine, I gotta deal with that. But I never expected you to lie to me like that. I just didn’t. And now…” Bucky fakes a dark, humorless laugh and rubs at his face. “Now, I gotta face this whole _new_ group of people. All they know is some mindless murder machine and here I come strolling up all handy-dandy.” 

Steve, who hasn’t had trouble talking to Bucky in years, stares at his feet for a few seconds, waiting for words to appear in his mouth. 

“Bucky, I just… it’s a video game,” he comes up with. “None of it’s real. I didn’t tell you, cause I didn’t think it mattered.”

“That’s not for _you_ to decide, Steve.”

“But those things you did,” Steve says, “they weren’t your fault.”

“Yeah!” Bucky exclaims. “But I still did ‘em! I did ‘em and you _lied_ to me about it all!” 

A few birds take flight, probably startled at the volume of Bucky’s voice. Steve, Captain America and all, shrinks into his shoulders. He feels no bigger than two inches tall. Guild rivers through him. He never intended all this hurt. All he wanted to do was _prevent_ Bucky from getting hurt. 

“I’m sorry,” Steve whispers. “I didn’t mean to upset you.” 

“What was that?”

“I said,” Steve repeats a little louder this time, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” 

Bucky sighs and offers something of a small grin. A hand rests over Steve’s. Although he already knows whose it is, he still looks. Moves his thumb so that it covers Bucky’s knuckles.

“Do they all hate me? Like that one guy?”

“No,” Steve answers. “And Tony doesn’t hate you either. He just didn’t understand.” With his free hand, Steve collects some water. “Still hot?”

That grin on Bucky’s face become deeper. He nods and tilts his head forward. Allows Steve the pleasure of drizzling water across the back of his neck. He releases a soft, pleasurable moan when Steve does it again. 

Bucky lifts his eyes before he picks up his head. When he does, they lock with Steve’s gaze. Like earlier, they just stare at each other. A moment of pure, iridescent wonder as they lean closer. The ground beneath them trembles. 

Wait. Actually…

“Steve,” Bucky says, “do you feel that?”

“Uh, yeah.” The ground really is trembling beneath them. This isn’t some cute, little metaphor for Steve’s heart being all ablaze over the idea of kissing Bucky. “What is that?”

They hurry to their feet and as soon as their upright, those wonderful, delightful drums start playing. 

“Oh, that’s comforting,” Steve mumbles.

Bucky doesn’t answer. Not beyond the hand he places on Steve’s shoulder which makes Steve’s heart speed up but this is _so_ not the time Rogers _please_ get a grip. 

“What’s the matter?” Steve asks just to do something other than stand there gawking over the fact that Bucky is touching him. 

Instead of answering, probably because he’s not entirely sure what’s wrong, Bucky just points out in front of them. Where everyone is running full speed at them. 

“Run!” they’re yelling. “Run! It’s a stampede!” 

Behind them, though it’s not like he and Bucky take all that long to look, tons of animals are chasing them. They run. Further into the woods. With the sun setting on their backs. 


	7. In Which We Face The Final Boss

“What in the _hell_ what that all about?” Sam asks when they come out of the trees once more. “I’m sick of this freakin’ jungle, man!”

Steve looks over his shoulder. All those animals that chased them there are still lingering within the trees. Just waiting for them. As though just daring them to try to come back that way. 

“Should I…” Peter points toward the trees. “Web it up or something?”

“I don’t think you have to,” Steve answers. “I don’t think they’ll bother us as long as we don’t try to come back into the jungle.” 

“So now we’re being herded?” Tony grumbles. “That’s great.” 

There’s a hand on Steve’s back as he leans forward a little to catch his breath. He glances to the side. Sees Bucky standing there. Bucky’s not quite looking at him, but he’s touching him while he, too, takes a breather. 

An old habit has Steve thinking he should shake the hand off. A new feeling keeps him from doing so. The one that makes his palms sweat and the world spin and -- what is he doing, he doesn’t have time to think about these things. 

“Uh, is everyone okay?” he asks. “No one is hurt, are they?”

No one is, thankfully. It’s thanks to Pietro, Tony, Rhodey, Sam, Peter and Wanda that they got out of there as quickly as they did. For those stuck on the ground, they moved them along and got them the hell out of there. 

Still doesn’t mean they’re not all exhausted. Probably has something to do with the rest of the day. Not exactly common to get chased through the jungle by a slew of angry animals after snakes and crazy doctors, evil sorceresses and their giant wolves, evil organizations brainwashing their friend. All in all, it’s been one trying day. 

For being sucked into a video game, though, Steve guesses it could be worse. At least it’s not some medieval game. He’d very much prefer not to to be sucked into Dungeons and Dragons. He’s never actually _played_ D&D, but he’s seen Stranger Things. No Demogorgon for him, thank you. 

“Why don’t we take a break?” Steve suggests. “Might do us all good to rest a bit.”

He gets no argument to that. In fact, everyone looks pretty damn relieved that he’s said that. Steve wonders why no one else just suggested it. 

“So,” Clint asks as he plops down and leans back against a tree. “What’s the first thing you guys are gonna do when you’re not trapped in a video game?”

“Hamburger,” Tony answers without any thought. “Definitely a hamburger.” He chuckles to himself. “After hugging my girl, though.” 

“Yeah.” Rhodey nods his head. “All I wanna do is get my arms around Carol again.” He turns a look on Tony. “Who knew playing a PS3 game _across_ the country from you would’ve gotten me in this me?”

Strange. The way Tony is with technology, even _here_ lost in the forsaken jungles of Jumanji, Steve would’ve figured he’d’ve had the most updated gamestation. The Playstation 3 went out years ago. There are even talks of the PlayStation 5 coming out in time for Christmas of 2019 and believe it, Steve’ll manage to get himself one. 

At least Rhodey seems to be joking. Obviously. Steve wonders if they already knew each other.

“Were you guys friends before this?”

“Met ‘im at MIT,” Tony says and tosses an arm around him. The armor on his arm clanks against the armor on Rhodey’s shoulders. “Haven’t been able to shake him since.” 

“Oh, sure,” Rhodey scoffs, giving Tony a playful shove away from him. “ _That’s_ the way the relationship works.” 

Rhodey goes on to ask Tony to tell them all what it was like behind Loki’s door. In some world called Sakaar where he had to outwit someone named the Grandmaster with the help of two allies: Valkyrie and Bruce, who also turned into a huge, green monster, the Hulk. Rhodey’s particularly interested in getting Tony to say the name of the wormhole he needed to use to get through. It takes a bit, but Tony finally, spits it out through clenched teeth that it was the Devil’s Anus. 

From next to him, Steve can hear a soft, meaningful chuckle. He didn’t even realize that Bucky had come to sit next to him. His eyes slide to meet Steve’s but, same as before, he doesn’t quite look over at him. Steve wishes he would. He also wishes he was brave the way Captain America is supposed to be brave. Then maybe he could put his hand on Bucky’s knee or take his hand the way he wants to. 

“I cannot tell if that’s worse than ours,” Pietro says. “When I hit start on the game, I watched her disappear into my Xbox and then I got pulled in a second later.” He’s quiet for a moment. Pensive. When he goes to speak again, he needs to try twice. “But when we get back, I think I want to go to Temple with Wanda. I stopped going when our parents died.”

By the looks of it, Steve’s quite sure none of the others knew that Wanda and Pietro’s parents had died. They both begin to receive sympathies and condolences which they accept politely, but Steve’s been there. He knows there’s not much to say in response to them. Wanda, though, has a loving arm around her brother. 

“As for me,” Wanda says quietly, “I had tickets to…” She trails off and makes a very stern expression. “Do not laugh at me.” Her eyes even glow red. Apparently, this is a very serious matter. “Any of you.” 

Wow. This must be pretty good. Although there’re already cracked smiles turned up on everyone’s mouths, she gets their promises that no one is going to outright laugh at her. 

“I had tickets to see Twilight with some friends,” she says. “Obviously I missed _that_ showing.”

Okay, wait. While Pietro goes on to tease Wanda about it but says it’s his legal right because of sibling laws, something doesn’t sit right with Steve. Maybe not with Bucky, Sam, Natasha or Clint either given the exchange glance he shares with them. 

Steve actually went to see Twilight in theaters. He didn’t hate it the way some people did. It wasn’t cinematographic art or anything, but he’s seen a lot worse. Thing is, Steve went to see that with _Bucky_. _Before_ they stopped talking. 

Something… something’s just not adding up here. 

“So, um, you’re on the Xbox team, huh?” Natasha asks Pietro. He shrugs. The shrug is mostly indifference, but he smiles nonetheless. “You excited about the Xbox One X? I hear the bundle package comes with Fallout 76.”

Pietro stares at her like she’s just started speaking in Russian. Which could do because she knows the language, but, if Steve’s heard correctly, that all came out in English. 

“I-- the what?” Pietro laughs. “What’re you talking about?”

Wanda laughs, too. “We just have the regular Xbox 360. If there’s a new one coming out already, we gonna have to wait.” 

“Hey!” Peter exclaims before any of them really have a chance to let that sink in. “At least you guys _have_ systems. You know how _I_ got here?” He actually jumping with some of his webbings. “I was walking into my bedroom with my PSP. I actually _touched_ the game with my own two hands.” He sighs and hangs his head. “Bet my PSP fell on the floor when I got sucked into it, too. Damn thing’s probably all banged on. Dang it.” 

“Yes,” Tony deadpans, “that’s, really, that’s the takeaway.” 

They sort of bicker a little. Or, not really. It’s clear that Peter looks up to Tony and that Tony looks out for him. Sort of a father/son relationship forged in a beyond bizarre scenario. 

“So, then,” Sam interrupts, “all of you were using an actual game console?”

Like Natasha’s question, they seem confused by Sam’s. Peter slowly puts his hand up. 

“I mean, I wasn’t?”

Clint waves him off. “Yeah, but you were using a gaming system.”

“Okay, well…” He shrugs. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Why?” Rhodey asks. “What’s wrong with that?”

“No, nothing’s wrong with it…” Clint says. “Just…”

He glances out at the rest of them for a little help. Things are becoming a little clearer now. Terrible, but clearer. 

“And, none of you used an app at all?” Bucky questions. “Not even to find the game?”

That one really seems to puzzle them. They first stare at each other as though one of them has the answer to the million dollar question. It’s Tony that voices what’s confusing them most. 

“What the hell’s an app?”

“Oh my god,” Sam mutters into his palms. 

Natasha’s eyes close and remain that way. Clint’s eyes, on the other hand, go wide. Bucky drops his head. Steve so badly wants to look away as well, but he can’t. He can’t do that to them. Someone needs to be soft and gentle about this. 

“What?” Rhodey asks. The suspicion is already there. “What is it?”

“Guys, what…” Steve has to clear his throat. “What _year_ do you think it is?”

Wanda’s hand has already gone over her mouth. Pietro’s shaking his head. Peter peels the facemask of his suit back -- he’s incredibly pale. Tony’s response is to go to him. Rhodey is still staring at Steve. 

“What’re you talking about? It’s… it’s 2008.”

Steve’s stomach flattens. Nothing in a million years could prepare him for having to tell anyone that they’ve just spent the last ten years trapped inside a video game. He has no idea where to start. No idea how to break this to them gently. These people just lost a decade. He can’t imagine what could be worse. Except maybe being frozen in a plane for seventy years after crashing it into icy water in a selfless attempt to end a war and waking up to find out everyone you knew and loved had died. But when the hell would that ever happen?

“Look, guys, I…” Steve keeps his voice soft and gentle. “I don’t know how to tell you this but--”

“Holy shit!” Clint bursts. “You guys have been in here for ten years!” 

Steve nods his head toward Clint. “Okay, that’s not exactly how I would’ve done it.”

That outburst of an exclamation is met with silence. No denial. No arguing. Just silence. It’s Peter who breaks it.

“How… how is that possible?” he asks, voice breaking like he’s holding onto tears. “Ten years?”

“All the Twilight movies have been out,” Steve says. And tilts his hand back and forth with hopes of making Wanda laugh and getting nothing. “We all got sucked in playing on our phones. Or tablets.” 

More confusion. Of course, there’d be. Smartphones weren’t really an everyday thing yet. Not when they were last around. 

When Tony wraps his arms around Peter -- Steve’s pretty sure he hears a soft _c’mere, kid,_ \-- his heart shatters even more. Both Pietro and Wanda area also comforting each other. Clint is with them, crouched in front of them and from the looks of it, they need it. Sam and Natasha have taken to offer their sympathies to Rhodey. 

The only one who hasn’t moved is Bucky. He looks upset. Of course, he looks upset, they’re all upset. He just looks a little more upset than usual. Crease between his eyebrows. Jaw tense. Possible tears in the corners of his eyes. Steve kneels down next to him.

“Hey,” he murmurs. “You okay?”

“Hm?” Bucky swings his gaze at him, finally. “Oh. Yeah.” 

That’s an obvious lie. One Bucky might actually be trying to believe himself. But Steve isn’t fooled. Something is wrong. 

“Bucky.” Steve slips a hand over Bucky’s. “What’s wrong?”

He shrugs. “Doesn’t feel right.” 

“What doesn’t?”

“Giving them comfort. Or getting it.” He twists his lips. “They’ve been here for ten years, Steve. And I made it worse for them.” 

“Made it-- oh.” Steve sighs and actually takes hold of Bucky’s hand, lacing their fingers. “Bucky, it wasn’t your fault. It was a video game storyline. A common one. The bad guys take the hero’s best friend and somehow make them fight one another.” 

A smile touches Bucky’s face. It’s faint. The first light of dawn kissing the horizon. Almost as though he isn’t sure if he should be smiling at all.

“What?” Steve asks. “What is it?”

“Did you just call me your best friend?”

Steve thinks back on what he’s just said. The part about the common video game storyline. Yes. Yes, he did. Indirectly, but he did. 

“Oh.” His face heats up. “Well. I mean, I _did_ burn down a building for you. I suppose you could be my best friend. If you want.”

Bucky smiles a little more. There’s still sadness in the corners. Guilt. Steve’s pretty sure that’s not going away until they get out of here. Bucky gives his hand a soft squeeze.

“I missed you, Steve.”

Heart swelling several sizes larger than he used to it being, Steve sucks in a shaky breath. 

Say it back to him, jackass, he thinks. That little voice inside his head his practically screaming it. His heart pounds even more. 

When he goes on not answering, Bucky’s smile falters, only slightly, and he goes to take his hand back. But Steve, using this new strength of his, tightens his grip and tugs him closer.

“I missed you, too, Buck.”

This time, it’s Bucky who blushes. Maybe Bucky doesn’t love Steve the way Steve loves him, but that’s okay. If he can have Bucky back in his life, that’s good enough. 

“Steve, I think it’s time for you to do what you’re best at doing.”

“What’s that?”

Bucky drops a hand on Steve’s head and actually uses him as a prop to stand himself back up. He then offers Steve a hand.

“Inspiring people.”

Once Steve is back on his feet, Bucky claps his back. Steve had no idea he did any sort of inspiring or that Bucky felt that way, but, well, if there’s any time to do it it’s gotta be now. He clears his throat. Gets everyone’s attention. 

“Look, guys, I know… I know this all really heavy,” he says. “None of us can really feel what you’re feeling right now.” All their eyes land on him. Too bad he didn’t have time to rehearse this. “But _this_ is what you’ve been waiting for. You’re what we were meant to find. We can get out of here _tonight_.” Steve chuckles darkly. 

“Look, I’m not saying that’s gonna be easy, but fighting to be heard, to be seen, to do the right thing… it never is. Cause even when you fall, even when they push you down ninety-nine times out of a hundred, you _always_ get back up. You stand your ground when you can and push back when you have to. You _try_ to see if you can. And live with yourself if you can’t.” He shakes his head, not really sure if any of this is making any difference. 

“We all found each other. And if in this crazy fucked up game we were able to come together and form this pretty kickass team, then I believe we’re gonna make it through right to the end. We’re strongest _together_ and _together_ we’re gonna make sure that all of us get out of here.”

When he’s finally run out of things to say, everyone continues to stare at him. Well, everyone minus Bucky. He just snickers softly behind him as he cleans his guns. 

“Did you write that down first?” Sam asks with a smile. “Or was that off the top of your head?”

***

It’s hard to tell where they are at all since pretty much everything around them has turned to shadowed shapes. They can still make out the trees that are close enough. Out in the distance, there might be a few mountains. Maybe a couple of hills a little closer than that. 

They look over the map together, using the two flashlights they have between both parties. It takes some time -- which is what happens when trying to read a crummy map in the middle of the woods at night via flashlights -- but Bucky comes up with a reasonable idea. 

“I think…” He hesitates, glancing up at Steve as though worried he’s going to disappoint him or someone and that instantly makes Steve want to wrap him in his arms -- because, hey, he can do that now -- and assure him that even if he’s wrong, it’s okay. He doesn’t have to be perfect. He’s never had to be perfect. He’s always been fine just the way he’s always been. “I think we might be coming up on Odin’s Mountain.” 

Everyone takes a glance around before looking down at the map again, probably doing what Steve’s doing. Trying to figure out how Bucky’s drawn that conclusion. 

“What makes you say that?” Clint asks. “How can you even…” 

“I’ve…” He clears his throat. “I kinda dabbled in topography. Y’know, in, like, real life. So, um, you see these right here?”

Bucky goes on to explain everything he sees on the map that no one else really gets. He even asks for Tony and Rhodey to run an aerial view for him. When they come back, they report everything Bucky described.

“I think it’s safe to assume,” Natasha grins, “that the Winter Soldier is pretty good at what he does.” 

“No.” Steve claps a hand down on Bucky’s shoulder. Warm and affectionate, but with enough strength to jostle him a bit. “ _Bucky Barnes_ is good at what he does.”

Head already ducked down, Bucky glances up at him through thick lashes. Pleased, even grateful nibbled on smile.

They follow Bucky’s directions through the trees and even across a small creek -- Clint loses his footing and falls in -- around hills until they get to a path that leads straight to the mountain. A path lined with lit torches. 

“Nah, man.” Sam shakes his head, pointing down at the path in front of them. “I don’t like this. This is way too easy.” 

He’s right. It’s not like they’re just gonna let them stroll up to the mountain climb on up and into the cave to put the Tesseract back. 

With all their combined skills -- both game-given and real life -- they’ll strategize and come up with a plan. Probably nothing incredibly complicated, but with any luck, they can pull it off. 

“How we gonna do this?” Peter asks. “We don’t even know where… or what… seriously, how’re we gonna do this?”

“Well, like the big guy said,” Tony answers. “Together. Call it, Cap.” 

Once again, every pair of eyes fall on him. Only this time, Steve’s chest feel too tight. For the first time since getting here, he feels like he’s having an asthma attack. Him? They want him to call it? 

He opens his mouth, waiting for words of action or a plan or something to fill it. It snaps closed. He tries again. Finds words, but not the ones he hoped for.

“Bucky?” The panic bubbles in his throat and he grabs Bucky’s wrist to pull him aside. “Bucky, I need to talk to you.” 

“Okay?” Bucky looks at him for a moment and shakes his head. “What’s wrong, Steve?”

“I can’t do this, Bucky,” Steve says. “It’s one thing to fight for justice by organizing protests and signing petitions and going to marches and speaking out against oppression. But this… I'm not… I'm not _really_ Captain America. I'm just Steve Rogers. I'm not a hero.”

Bucky smiles at him like he hasn't said anything discouraging at all. He even might get out a little laugh.

“Steven Grant Rogers,” he says and leans in to whisper right into his ear, “You never needed to be Captain America to become a hero.”

Steve can’t really help his own reaction. The gasp. It fills his lungs with the air he’d just been so desperate to get just moments ago. Bucky thinks he’s a hero. Steve can just float away on that alone. Realizing he still has Bucky’s wrist -- thank goodness it’s his left -- in his ironclad grip, Steve smiles and turns to go back to the rest of them, tugging Bucky along with him. He’s almost positive he hears a surprised yelp from behind him when he does. Super strength. Right. 

“We are good now?” Pietro asks. “Yes?”

“Yeah,” Steve answers. “Where’re my gamers at?” Natasha steps forward. Peter flips out of a tree. “Okay, what’re we thinking? Trap, right?”

“Oh, yeah,” Natasha agrees.

“Definitely a trap.” Looks like Peter counts something. “My guess is, about four or five torches in, the cavalry will arrive.” 

“But this is a game,” Steve points out. “Not real life. Which probably means they don’t really _know_ we’re here yet.” 

“Oooh.” Peter shoots finger guns at him. Excited by this. “That’s a good point! Wait.” He rolls his fingers in. “Why is that a good point?”

Natasha snorts. “Because they can’t sneak up on us. We can’t really sneak up on them either, but we know their attack is coming.” 

Those finger guns come back out, this time at Natasha. She can’t help but laugh. This Peter kid is kind of adorable. No wonder Tony adopted him in here. 

“All right, listen up,” Steve instructs. “Our main priority is getting the Tesseract back up to the cave. We gotta keep the fighting contained here. Barton, I want you in the trees. Eyes on everything.”

Clint is already stringing up a bow and shaking his muscles out like he’s getting ready for something really fun. 

“Roger that, Rogers.”

“Tony and Rhodey,” Steve says. “You guys got the perimeters. Turn as many as these fuckers to ash before they can even get to us.”

“Woah!” Tony exclaims. “Language! There are children present!”

That remark gets Peter to give him something of an offended expression, though, Tony’s right. 

“For real,” Rhodey joins in on the teasing. “You kiss your mama with that mouth?” 

Not bothering to respond to the hazing beyond an eyeroll, Steve turns to their excuse for it. Peter’s eyes dazzle. Excited to be included.

“Keep your distance,” Steve tells him. “And web ‘em up.” 

Before Steve can hand out another instruction, Peter is waving his hands in protest to what was just said. 

“Wait, wait.” He shakes his head, eyes closed as though confused about something. “ _Keep_ my _distance_? But I wanna help! I can help! Mr. Stark, tell ‘im I can help!”

“Eh.” Tony shakes his head. “I’m with Cap on this, kid.”

“But--”

“You’re helping, Peter,” Steve assures him. “Just as much as everyone else.”

Looks like he might go to say more, but instead just nods his head and accepts the order. 

“You two,” he tells Natasha and Pietro. “Stay on the ground. Keep the fighting as focused on one area as possible.” 

“Not a problem for me,” Pietro replies. “Is this a problem for you?”

Natasha shrugs as if going up against goons of an evil organization is on her to-do list every day. 

“And the rest of us?” Wanda asks when Steve’s pause lingers. “What do we do?”

Her, along with Sam and Bucky, all wait for that answer. 

“Well, you see, that’s the thing…”

Here’s where things get tricky.

***

Peter’s right. It’s at the fourth torch when Hydra attacks. With their guns and grenades. Even big ass hunting and throwing knives. They come out of the trees on those same motorcycles as before. Different, more modern ones, too. 

Everyone plays their part just like they discussed. Clint, up high and unseen in the trees, picks them off one by one. Flying across the perimeters, Tony and Rhodey keep their numbers down to what it might actually be. Given the amount that actually _do_ get through, without them, they might not make it through to the mountain at all. Even though Peter had his arguments to make about what Steve asked him to do, he’s been cooperative and staying back. Sneak attacks and webbing them up from behind. Pretty bad puns, too, but he clearly insists on making them. On the ground, right in the middle of the fray, Natasha and Pietro are putting a pretty good hurting on them. A Hydra agent suddenly knocked over by an unseen force. Natasha flipping a big, huge dude over by his neck with her thighs. It’s actually really cool to watch.

But there’s still more to be done. The rest of them have jobs to do as well and they need to execute everything just right. 

“You ready?” Steve asks, still with the other three at the start of the path. “We only get one shot at this.” 

They only answer with nods. Everyone is too focused, too tense to take their gaze off what’s happening in front of them. 

“Okay,” Steve murmurs just as Peter’s pulled back two more agents right at the torch line. “Go!” 

Sam takes to the air with Bucky hanging from his grip. Sounds like Bucky releases a laugh when they go up. Neither Steve nor Wanda move. Not yet. When Sam and Bucky get almost all the way over the fighting, Sam drops Bucky and keeps going.

On his feet now, Bucky, well, he fights, yes, but god damn, does he look hot doing it. The way he moves from weapon to weapon. Throwing punches and kicks. Twirling knives between his fingers. And then finally snagging a motorcycle coming right at him by the handles, hanging onto it as it flips through the air and jumps on it. 

Seeing Bucky do that pretty much becomes Steve’s sexuality right then and there. But he doesn’t have time to drool. There’s still work to be done.

“Wanda,” he says. “On my six.” 

“Got it.” 

Steve takes in one encouraging breath, gets a nod from Wanda, and they race down the path together.

Shield out in front, Steve barrels through anyone who gets in his way. Which, with his teammates’ help, isn’t all that much. He’s also able to get in a good swings now and then. And never once does he need to worry about an attack from behind. Not with Wanda covering him. She’s incredible. Not one person ever gets close to him as she both runs and flies behind him. She flings them away or stops them in place or even turns their weapons against them. 

They cheer for him on the ground. Tell them all they got this covered down here. Keep going. They can do this. 

“Wanda,” Steve shouts as they make a break for the mountain. “You good?” 

“Oh, I’m afraid _not_ , Captain.” 

Steve skids to a halt at the sound of that voice. A chill runs down his spine and, although he already knows what he’s going to see when he turns around, he’s terrified to look. 

Terrified or not, Steve spins around. Finds a nightmare in the flesh. The Red Skull with his hand wrapped around Wanda’s throat. A gun pointed to her head. 

“Wait, wait!” Steve holds his palms out. “You don’t have to do this!” 

“Arrogance is not a unique trait, but you do it better than most,” the Red Skull answers. “Did you think I was just going to let you run onto my mountain?”

“Maybe there’s some way we can work this out,” Steve offers. “No one has to get hurt.” 

The Red Skull sniggers and cocks the gun, pressing the barrel right up against Wanda’s temple. 

“There is only one way to solve this equation,” he says. “Give me the jewel and I’ll let you and your little friends live.” 

“Don’t do it, Steve!” Wanda exclaims, but the Red Skull jostles her roughly to shut her up. 

Steve shakes his head anyway. “I can’t do that.” 

“Does your ridiculous, self-righteous sense of _justice_ truly outweigh the worth of your friend’s life?” the Red Skull asks. “You’re truly going to watch her die all because you wouldn’t hand over the Tesseract?” 

His finger wraps around the trigger. Steve quickly holds his hand out even further. 

“No, wait!” he says. “I _really_ can’t do it!” 

The Red Skull rolls his eyes. “And why, pre tell, can’t you do it? Am I to listen to one of your long, tedious ramblings?”

“No.” Steve shakes his head. “I just don’t have it.” 

Steve swings his gaze toward the mountain. Up the winding side. Where a motorcycle is currently speeding along the twisted path. The Red Skull, who followed Steve’s eyes immediately, screams. 

“Now, Wanda!” 

Wanda squeezes her eyes closed and phases right through the back of the Red Skull. Just as they planned, she then propels Steve right up the side of the mountain while Pietro runs her out of there.

Steve lands with perfect accuracy just a little more than halfway up the mountain. He can hear the motorcycle roaring closer. He turns and runs for the mouth of the cave. 

Inside, right in the middle, sitting on a platform-like rock, is a chest. Old. There’s a cone of illumination shining over it. Moonlight. Coming from the opening at the roof of the cave. 

Steve slowly approaches the chest. It’s old and lined in velvet. Dulled. Covered in cobwebs and dust and vines. Bugs and rats and scorpions. The vines tighten around the thing the closer Steve gets to it. The bugs and rats and scorpions gather to the center. 

Doesn’t matter anyway. When Steve hears the motorcycle coming, he dashes away from the disgusting chest to meet him. 

“Bucky!” 

“Not so fast!” 

Right. The Red Skull. Could’t’ve been that easy. He just _had_ to drop in on the party. Literally. No, seriously though… Steve looks up and tries to figure out where the hell this guy came from since he’s suddenly standing between him and Bucky. 

“Oh, come on!” Steve exclaims. “That’s bullshit!”

“Steve!” Bucky shouts with the Tesseract in his hand. “Here!”

He’s gonna throw it. And Steve’s gotta catch it. They can do this. They _can._ Steve’s already getting ready.

But so is the Red Skull. Only not in the same way. He simply glares at Bucky and growls, “ _Sputnik._ ”

Bucky, who had his arm back like he was ready to toss a football, slowly lowers it. He looks at the Red Skull and only the Red Skull.

“That’s a good Soldier,” the Red Skull says. “Hand it over now.” 

“Bucky…” Steve murmurs.

Bucky’s arm starts to slowly extend toward the Red Skull, the Tesseract almost within his reach. Just before he’d hand it over, Bucky smirks. Steve runs to the edge of the mountain. He stops just before jumping to flip the Red Skull off. 

“Always have a backup plan, asshole!” Steve yells as Bucky flings the Tesseract off the side after him. 

“No!” the Red Skull screams. “What are you doing?!”

Air rushes by Steve so fast he can barely see, but he still manages to reach out and snatch the Tesseract. He holds a hand out. Feels another take hold of it and then hoist him back up. 

“You okay, Steve?”

First checking to make sure he’s got the Tesseract safely tucked in his grip, Steve laughs and nods. 

“You know it, Sam!” 

Even Sam laughs as he flies them back up to the top of the mountain and drops Steve back right into the cave. Right through the hole. Steve lands right over the chest and now that he holds the Tesseract over his head, all the vermin that were trying to keep him away from it before, scatter. 

The Tesseract shines so brightly in Steve’s hand it should burn, but Steve shoves it back down in the chest and slams it closed. Steve steps away as soon as the chest is shut, expecting something to happen. A big _Quest Completed_ sign or something. But nothing happens. Nothing at all.

When nothing happens, the Red Skull, still at the mouth of the cave, with Bucky -- peeling the cloth out of his ears -- sneers. 

“Shout out its name,” Bucky murmurs. “Steve! Steve, we need to shout out the game’s name!” He turns and clearly yells to the others down below. “Shout out its name!” 

“Jumanji…” Steve whispers. And then, along with the others. “Jumanji!” 

Something does happen then. A blue beam of light flashes out of the chest. The Red Skull screams and runs into it, yelling something about how it belongs to him, it’s his jewel, he will have dominion over Jumanji. A hard gush of wind rushes over everything. When the wind dies down and the light disappears, the Red Skull is gone. 

Jumanji begins to restore to what it must’ve been before they got there. Steve steps out of the cave and stands next to Bucky to watch it all happen. Birds fly through the air as the treetops turn a vibrant green and off in the distance waterfalls churn. There’s life and brilliance. 

“It’s beautiful,” Bucky whispers. “Look at this place.”

“Yeah,” Steve says. “Who knew.”

“You did. Right when we got here. You said we had to save it. You were right.” 

“Hey!” They look up to see Sam soaring above them. He circles once and then lands down with them. “Would ya’ll look at this shit? It’s like the best Chia Pet in the world.” 

Steve snorts. “Did you steal that from Clint?”

Sam grins. 

“I didn’t think it was his worst.” Sam shrugs. “C’mon, slowpokes. Nick is already here. Let’s go home.” 

Home. Why that word has a brand new meaning, Steve’s not sure. But when he thinks of it, he gets a lump in his throat. Even when he looks at Bucky and Bucky smiles at him. 

Everyone is waiting for them when they get off the mountain. There with them is Nick, Maria Hill, and Agent 13. 

“Captain,” Nick greets when they get there. “Soldier, Falcon.”

“Director Fury,” Steve says. “If there’s nothing more we can do for you…”

“You’ve handled everything the way I knew you would.” He gives them a crooked grin. “On the behalf of SHIELD we’re here to thank you for your services to Jumanji.”

All three of them hold their hands out at once. To shake. 

Steve looks to Tony, Rhodey, Wanda, Pietro, and Peter. He waves them forward. 

“You guys first,” he says and gets no objections from his team.

Tony pushes both Peter and Rhodey first. Pietro insists that Wanda go ahead of him. Not that it makes any difference. They’ve beaten the game. As soon as each of them shakes one of their hands -- either Nick’s, Maria’s, or Agent 13’s -- they fade away, presumably, hopefully, back to the real world. After Tony and Pietro go. Sam, Natasha, and Clint go. Then, it’s just Bucky and Steve.

“Well,” Bucky says. “You ready?”

That sure is a loaded question. Ready for what, exactly? To go back where no one even likes him. No one listens to him. Steve’s heart falls when he sees Bucky reaching for Nick’s hand.

“No, wait!” He pulls Bucky closer. “Bucky, what if… what if we stayed?”

Bucky’s eyebrows pull together. “What?”

“It’s just… I… I _like_ being this way. With you.”

A smile pulls up the corners of Bucky’s mouth. The slightest hint of pink touches his cheeks. 

“You do?”

“Yeah. I…” Steve takes in a deep breath. “Look, I’m just gonna tell you this while I’m still brave enough to say it.” 

Maybe he can say it, but that doesn’t mean he can look at Bucky while he does. Steve closes his eyes. The gentle touch to his cheek makes him smile softly. 

“I love you, Bucky,” he whispers. “I’ve always loved you. And I know I’ve been a bad friend and a bad person in general and mean to you and I’m sorry, Bucky, I really am, but you need to know how much I love you and I wanna be like _this_ with you, Bucky.”

“Steve,” Bucky murmurs, slipping a hand fully across his cheek. “You punk. You don’t need to _look_ like this for me to love you.” Steve opens his eyes. Looks into Bucky’s misty ones. “I love _Steve Rogers_. _Not_ Captain America. We be like this. Everyday. Just come home and be with me.”

Bucky caresses his cheek once before moving away and going over to Nick. He smiles at both Maria and Agent 13 who salute him once and then takes Nick’s hand. Steve watches as he disappears and then it’s just him. 

“Captain America.” 

Steve looks over himself. At his muscles. The body that people thought belonged to a hero. Steve shakes his head. 

“Nick.” He steps forward. Hand outstretched. “I’m ready to go home.” 

As though pleased by this decision, Nick nods and takes Steve hand in a firm grip. He might wish him good luck. Steve’s not sure. His ears clog. His vision fades. His head spins. 

Steve opens his eyes and looks down at his tablet. At his _tablet._ Realizing he’s back in his apartment, Steve flies to his feet. He’s back. Just like they promised. 

It’s still raining outside, but the storm has definitely lessened. Even in just a few minutes of time that’s passed here. The lights have flickered back on. 

“Holy shit,” he says. “That was… what the…” 

Steve runs to the door. He can go to the others’ places. Talk to them about what the hell happened. And what about the others? Where are they? Are they okay?

But Steve freezes with his hand around the doorknob. What if Bucky sees him and has a change of heart. What if things are too different now? After everything’s happened, maybe Steve should give it a day. Or two. 


	8. The Prologue: In Which Everyone Comes Together For One Last Hoorah

Steve shouldn’t be this nervous. Today is just like any other day except that over the weekend he just happened to be sucked into a video game with some of his friends. No big deal. He can deal with that. Even if he spent the whole time filling his inbox with unsent texts. He hasn’t even answered the texts he’s received. A ton of them. 

They’re from everyone. Natasha checking on him. Sam seeing if he needs anything. Clint trying to get him to order pizza. Bucky. So many from Bucky. Steve’s smiled at every one of them, but for some reason, he hasn’t been able to bring himself to answer.

To be honest, he’s not sure why he can’t answer. Mostly, he just can’t think of something to say. Steve knows how he feels about them now. In his heart, they’re all his friends. Best friends, really. Hell, who could go through all that and not bond in some way. But he doesn’t know if they feel the same way. He’s a bit of a chicken to find out. Hopefully, in person, his brain will supply something more than a blank. 

If they don’t, Steve’s pretty sure he’s going to be crushed. Dramatic, yes, but things are different. He’s back to his old, scrawny self again. Someone could probably snap him like a twig if they tried. Not that that means he wouldn’t go down fighting. Time has proven that over and over again. He smiles at this thought. 

Still. Back to his old self also means thick glasses for his astigmatism and not being able to hear out of one ear. Insulin for his diabetes. Iron pills for anemia and prescriptions for low-cholesterol and arrhythmia. And, of course, his inhaler and Epipen. Steve Rogers is one hell of a catch. 

“Oh, what do you know?” he grunts to the small table he’s trying to set up in the gym. “Bucky said… why would he lie?”

The table, which has been uncooperative from the start, holds steadfast in its opinion. Steve scoffs and continues trying to get its legs to stay up. 

“God damn it,” Steve grumbles when the metal piece slides down once again. “Would you _just_ stay up?”

“Sounds like a _you_ problem.”

Steve glances up to see Clint with two cups of coffee and wearing a big, dopey smile, clearly proud of his joke. 

“Clint,” Steve greets. “What’re you doing here?”

That smile gets bigger as Clint hands over his extra cup of coffee and takes a small sip of his before bending down. 

“Takin’ the good ol’ tour,” he says. “Hear tell this is a pretty good school. Thinkin’ of applying. I, uh, I wanna be a teacher. Someone once told me that screwing up and being a screw up are two different things. So.”

Warmth fills Steve at the mention of that last part. He’s the one who said that to him. Just a few days ago. He meant it then and he still means it now. He just can’t even believe that something _he_ said gave Clint the courage to go for it. He must’ve really taken it to heart. 

“I… Clint, that’s great.” Steve grins. “I think you’ll make an awesome teacher.”

Clint starts fiddling with the table legs along with him. Steve hasn’t even asked him to, but Clint’s right here. Helping. Even when his knee knocks his coffee over and what remains spills out. Poor Clint stares at it like it’s the most devastating thing that’s ever happened. In fact, he looks at the coffee with a more horrified expression than any he wore back in Jumanji. 

“Aw,” he whines. “ _Coffee_ , how could you?”

“Relax, Barton. We’ve come to the rescue.” 

This time, Steve has to turn around to see the 'we' in question. He’s rather shocked, too. Natasha is one thing. But who’s with her is another. He’s surprised to see him out and about. Sure, he was thrust outside of his safezone when pulled into Jumanji, but this is miles different. Nathasha’s holding a box of doughnuts and cup of coffee. In Sam’s hand, a cardboard cup holder with four cups of fresh coffee. 

“Sam?” Steve says. “I didn’t… expect to see you here.”

Honestly, he didn’t expect to see any of them here. Especially in the gym where he’s setting up a display on his fight to raise minimum raise. But the last one he expected to see at all was Sam. 

“Yeah, uh.” He shuffles his and looks around. Clearly a bit uncomfortable, but trying. Natasha looks her arm with his. “Just buying some books. But… one step at a time.”

“He’s doing great, too.” Natasha kisses his cheek. “When I heard the gym was free today, I figured you would be here. What’re we fighting for today?”

As Clint and Sam get the table flipped upright, Natasha grabs a stack of flyers to read over all the information Steve’s printed on them. Completed with sources and everything. Steve has a sign meant to go over the front of the table, too. Before he can get to that, Natasha is thrusting a flyer into some guy’s chest. 

“I _better_ not find this in the trash,” she warns him. “This is important.”

The guy stammers a few times before agreeing and taking the flyer as he flees, probably as fast as he can. 

“You know,” Sam chuckles. “You don’t know martial arts anymore.”

“Pft.” She flicks her hair back. “That’s what _you_ think.” 

“Besides,” Steve says as he gets his sign all set up. “The point isn’t to threaten people, it’s to educate them. Or to get them to educate themselves, really.” Speaking of which. “Hey, have any of you guys heard from Bucky?”

“Yeah.” Natasha nods. “We were texting a bit over the weekend.” 

They all say the same. A bit of talking over the weekend, but that none of them had seen him here today. That figures. Well, it’s probably his own fault, really. Steve had plenty of opportunities to talk to him over the weekend and didn’t take them. He’ll have to deal with that later. 

Well, maybe after he shoots Bucky just _one_ text. Just to let him know where they all are. 

For now, he just focuses on what he’s doing now. Which is actually kind of fun. With Clint, Natasha, and Sam there with him. Steve doesn’t feel so let down whenever someone dismisses them or totally ignores them. Because he’s got friends there to flip them off or curse them out as they walk away with him. 

Steve, however, does keep checking his phone. Just to see if Bucky’s gotten back to him. So far, nothing. Steve frowns at his phone. It’s been almost two hours. All that finally changes a few minutes later. 

“Hey.” His voice makes Steve stumble over whatever it is he’s trying to say to the girl he’s showing a flyer to. “I hear this is where the cool kids are hanging out.” 

“Bucky…” Steve whispers.

“I’m sorry?” asks the girl standing in front of him. “What was that?”

“Uh, sorry. Sorry.” He hands the flyer over. “Thanks for stopping by.” 

When Steve turns, he sees Bucky and Natasha just finishing up a hug. Both Sam and Clint pat him on the back. Clint then tugs him in for a one armed hug. Cute, too, since Bucky blushes. 

“Hey,” Steve greets when he goes over. He’s gotta look up a bit. “I… I, um, how’re you?”

Bucky shrugs. “Okay, all things considering. I was hoping to see you.”

“Yeah, I, uh.” Steve scratches his head. “I dunno what that was about. “This weekend, I mean. I just…”

Two fingers cover Steve's mouth. Bucky's eyes flick down to them. He doesn't remove them, but he does shrug one semi-indifferent shoulder.

“Not as cool as a metal arm, maybe.” He wiggles two bionic fingers. “But it works, right?”

Since Bucky’s fingers are still covering his lips, Steve just nods. He adds a little peck anyway. It makes Bucky fold a smile in.

“Don’t worry about this weekend,” Bucky says. “I get it. Friday _was_ a little strange.”

Steve chuckles and scratches the back of his head, hoping like hell Bucky only means the really weird parts of Friday. The whole getting sucked into a video game and saving Jumanji thing. Not Steve sudden and impromptu love confession. 

“Yeah,” Steve agrees behind Bucky's fingers. “Yeah, it was.”

Grinning, Bucky snickers and takes his fingers away. 

“Look, Steve,” he starts to tell him. “I, uh.” Bucky clears his throat. “I've been thinking a lot about what you said, just before we got back.” Oh shit. Fuck, this can't be good. Steve's ears start to ring. “And I realized--”

“It's fine. Really. We can just be friends. It's okay.”

“--that I never said I love you, too.”

“Seriously, it's fine, I…” Steve crinkles his face. “Wait… what?” 

Eyebrows pulled in, Bucky looks ready to burst out laughing. He closes his eyes and runs a hand through his hair, now all poofed and fluffy again.

“I love you, punk,” he repeats. “You need me to say it a third time?”

Steve narrows his own eyes at him. Lips pursed and foot tapping, he crosses his arms.

“Jerk,” he mutters. “Dunno _how_ I feel about you anymore.”

Those eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, really? Well, I guess I--”

There's no letting him finish that. Steve leaps into his arms, legs locking around his waist and mouth planting a deep, firm, open-mouthed kiss. He doesn't pull away either. Now that he's finally kissing Bucky, after all these years, he's not gonna end it so quickly. 

Bucky doesn't seem too eager to either. His fingers press into Steve's back as his hands work their way up his shirt. Steve's fingers knot through Bucky's hair; pull him in impossibly closer until Bucky moans into Steve's mouth as their tongues roll together. 

That sound, though, must cause some unwanted attention and the world suddenly crashes down around them once more.

“Uh, _ew_ ,” Clint mutters. “Get a _room_ please.”

Heart pounding and breathless, they break apart and stare at everyone else. Steve, for just a moment, loses himself in all thoughts of being lost with Bucky, and whines. Between his legs, there's something of a growing problem. Next to his good ear, Steve hears Bucky snicker.

“We can take care of that,” Bucky whispers. Kisses the side of Steve's neck. “Later.”

Burying his face between Bucky's neck and shoulder, Steve can't believe how real, how natural this feels already. As though he and Bucky have been together all this time.

“Okay, seriously, you two,” Natasha comments. “I'm not gonna sit here and watch you make out all afternoon.”

“Yeah.” Sam swings an arm over her shoulders. “I can think of better things to do.”

“All right, all right,” Bucky says, placing Steve back onto his feet despite Steve's sigh. 

Bucky kisses the back of his neck though and the five of them work through almost the rest of the afternoon together. Laughing. Smiling. Helping each other out and propping each other up. 

Sam stays close to Natasha the whole time, but that's okay. He's still out and about. Clint says he working up the nerve to ask out a regular from the pizza place. A lady named Laura. Studying to be a nurse, Clint says and no matter how many times he questions himself, they assure him he _is_ good enough. Whenever Bucky is sitting and Steve tries to walk by, he gets pulled onto his lap. He's perfectly okay with this. 

“Hey,” Steve says when the afternoon is winding to an end. He's never handed out so many flyers and gotten so many signatures in one day. “I tried searching this weekend, but…” His glands tighten. Steve's almost afraid to ask. Afraid to find out not everyone got the same happy ending as them. “Did you guys hear from…”

Natasha is already shaking her head. Sam looks down with a shrug. Clint blows a disappointed raspberry. Bucky actually voices it.

“No. No, I don't know what happened to them either,” he says. “I was hoping one of you did. I kinda… didn't wanna bring it up.”

“Same,” Clint says.

As does Sam and Natasha. So they've all been feeling the same thing. Wondering where the others are and if anyone else found out. Too afraid to ask when they couldn't find any information on them. 

There's gotta be some way to figure out what happened to them. To make sure they all got home safely. 

It's near the end of the day when they're approached by two people with a group of kids. A guy and a woman. The guy is about their age. The woman can definitely be the mother of at least one or two of the kids with them. 

“Hey,” the guy greets. “Could you use any help cleaning up?”

Steve looks at the mess all around them. It happens every day. Papers falling. Pens rolling off the table. Coffee spilling. Cleaning up is just part of the job. He never expected help though. Not from so many people. Strangers especially. Although. Taking a closer look, this guy doesn't look that much like a stranger at all. Neither does the woman. Who smiles as if they've known each other for years.

“Peter?” Steve questions. “And… Wanda?” 

The second Steve says their names, the rest of them stop talking and start staring. 

“Hello, Steve,” Wanda greets and then looks at everyone else. “It's so good to finally see you all again.”

“Holy _shit_ ,” Clint exclaims. “What the hell happened to you guys?”

They go on to explain that the game spit them out exactly where they'd left off. Right in 2008. They'd been waiting these ten years to find _them_. 

“So, but, where is everyone?” Sam asks. “Are they all okay?” 

“I'm here.” Peter flashes a grin. “At NYU.”

Getting his graduates in journalism and photography of wilderness and wildlife. He plans on publishing a book. 

Pietro, Wanda tells them, actually became a track star. Medaled in the 2012 Olympics and everything before getting a full scholarship. He now runs a Jewish youth center and is currently on a trip with some of them.

Wanda puts her hand on the shoulder of the oldest kid there. A girl. Light brown skin. Lots of tight ringlets of hair falling loosely around her face. Probably about twelve or thirteen. She looks up from her phone for the first time.

“This is Alexis Rhodes-Danvers,” she says. “Rhodey and his wife, Captain Carol Danvers’ daughter.”

The both of them are in the armed forces. That doesn't really surprise anybody, really. Steve remembers the way Rhodey spoke of Carol -- with such tenderness, such fondness, he wanted nothing more than to see her again -- like it was yesterday. Well, technically, it _was_ only two days ago. Still, he's glad everything worked out.

“ _Mom_ ,” one of the two maybe ten-year-olds whine. “How much longer are we gonna _be_ here?”

“Yeah, Ma,” the other chimes in. “This is _boring_.”

Sighing, Wanda looks between the two of them and first lights knocks them on the head before introducing them.

“These are my twins.” She names the one who spoke first. “Tommy and Billy.”

Ironically, she happened to meet their father, Vince, at that Twilight showing she got to make. Now, she's also a pediatrician.

“As for Tony,” Wanda laughs, “I'm sure you already knew he's doing fine.”

Steve exchanges a glance with everyone else, just to make sure they're all on the same page as him. Fold down page number confused and know-clue. They all shake their heads and shrug. Deny her claim in their own little way.

“Really?” she questions. “You guys couldn't tell he was okay?”

From out of her bag, Wanda yanks out a magazine. On the front cover is Tony. He's in a suit and he's older and it's all business, not jungle, but it's Tony.

With him, standing back to back, is a fabulous looking redhead. She's in heels and a pencil skirt and kinda looks like she might be able to kick Tony's ass in some ways, but she's smiling with him like she doesn't want to be anywhere else.

“What the hell?” Steve exclaims. “I tried searching all weekend! I didn't… I mean… I…”

Wanda chuckles. “That's just probably because you didn't know what to look for. Tony Stark and Pepper Potts. Masters of the video game developing world.”

Tony, it seems, went on to marry his girlfriend and together, they've started an empire in the video game world. It started as a way to deal with what happened, Wanda says. He started staying up most nights making games and Pepper didn't want him to be alone. Working together, they came up with a gaming system and company. 

“And this little guy.” Peter jostles the little boy, maybe five or six, sitting on his shoulders. Mess of brownish red hair. Trail of freckles across his nose. Light brown eyes. “Is my godson. T.S., can you say hi?”

Up on Peter's shoulders, T.S. laughed when he was moved about, but now faced with having to say hello, he tries to hide his face in Peter's hair.

“Aw, c'mon, big guy, you can say hello,” Peter encourages. “Remember what I told you? You have Spidey powers! Like your Uncle Petey!”

T.S. huffs but otherwise looks up at everyone and wiggles his fingers and when Clint goes over and asks for a fist bump, he holds in a laugh and gives him one.

Before anyone says anything else, T.S. whispers something into Peter's ear. Whatever it is makes Peter smile and nod. He waves his hand out to everyone as if to say _go ahead._

“My buddy's got somethin’ to tell you,” he says. “Go on, T.S.”

Face all red and fiddling with his fingers, it takes him a few tries but he finally gets it out.

“My… m-my name is Anthony Steven Stark.” His eyes lift. “Named for my, um, for my daddy and the, um, the boy who s-saved my daddy's life.”

As soon as the words are out, T.S.’s pale skin burn so red, he's immediately hiding in Peter's hair again. Too bad Steve wasn't sitting on Bucky's shoulders. Or lap. He'd give anything to be able to hide his face along with him since he's pretty sure it's burning a similar shade of red. 

Really? Tony named his kid after him? Steve's never felt so honored. Even with the laughing and chuckling behind him. With Bucky's hands gently taking hold of his shoulders and his lips pressing into the top of his head. Steve looks at them all, his friends, those here and those spoken for, and knows one thing that's true with every beat of his heart. He's loved. He's not alone and he's loved and he will be until his game is over. 


	9. In Which There is a Teeny Tiny Post Credit Scene

Steve’s living room is completely trashed. The couch cushions are overturned and the lamp has crashed, quite possibly breaking, and the coffee table is halfway across the room. Whatever cleaning that will need to get done to straighten it up tomorrow is completely worth it. Steve’s officially moved onto dragging Bucky into trashing his bedroom now. 

Because making out with Bucky is literally the best thing in the entire world. Steve could do it for day and days and days. He can’t believe he’s missed all these years doing this with him. Especially since, if tries hard enough, Bucky can get Steve so frisky, he can get him climaxing just by kissing the sides of his neck. 

Bucky’s a little shit, too. He’s all about teasing him and gentle touches and light kisses. And, fuck, all they’ve really done is make out. God _knows_ what’s gonna happen when they do something more. 

But in the middle of the most amazing, incredible, fantastic make-out sessions, one of the only things that could ever bring them to a sudden halt happens. 

Drums. 

Not the kind of drums that one might hear outside because maybe there’s a parade. Not drums from the bass of the loud volume of a car. Not normal drums.

 _Those_ drums. 

If the blood draining from Bucky’s face is any indication of how he feels, then the both of them are thinking the exact same thing. It doesn’t matter that Steve is dressed only a baggie tank and boxers and Bucky only has sweats on. Steve flies off of Bucky’s lap. Bucky falls off Steve’s bed in his haste to follow Steve to his door. 

They follow the sounds of the drums to the floor below. Natasha and Sam -- Sam with lipstick stains all over his face -- are already on their way up and meet them on that level. Clint, pizza in hand, is running toward the right apartment and gets there before any of them. He starts pounding on the door. 

“Pizza!” he shouts. “I got your pizza! Pizza delivery! Piz--”

“I didn’t fucking order any…”

But none of them let him finish. The guy who lives in this apartment. James “Logan” Howlett looks both pissed and confused as they barge into his place where there are four other people. Wade Wilson, who’s happily gone over to the box of pizza that isn’t theirs and helped himself to two slices. Ellie Phimister, on her phone probably updating her status on what’s happening right now and doesn’t look all that interested in the interruption. Miles Morales, holding a game controller in one hand and holding the other up as though the cops just busted in. And Eli Bradley, who _might_ want to fight, but is most definitely gauging the situation. 

Looks like they’re getting ready to play a video game. They have snacks -- and now a pizza -- and it even sounded like they’d been arguing before Steve and them got there. Now, Logan is telling them to get the hell out. He even scoffs and tells Steve he’ll sign whatever it is he wants signed and that this is going way too far. 

Steve ignores him and marches over to the gaming system. When Logan, or any of them, make any attempt to question or stop him, one of his friends step in to keep them from doing so. Steve presses the button and pops the disc out. 

He chuckles darkly when he sees what it is and fans it in the air before holding it out for the rest of them to see exactly what it is. Sure enough, the title is exactly what they feared. 

“Jumanji,” Sam grumbles. “Of course.” 

“I told you,” Natasha says. “It keeps coming back.” 

“Well,” Bucky says. “What’re we gonna do?”

“What the hell do you mean?” Logan asks. “I just got that in the mail! Give it back!”

Wade, mouth full of his third slice of pizza, nods. “Yeah, guys. What’dya know? Gonna play?”

Handing over the controller, Miles offers first play. “You guys can try first?”

Eli scoffs. “I’m still Patriot, though.”

The only one who doesn’t seem to care one way or another is Ellie. When Wade goes to say something to her, she holds out a finger to keep him quiet as she continues on her phone. 

Not that it matters. Steve looks to all of them and clearly has the exact same thing in mind as the rest of them. They all smirk. He drops the disc to the ground and, despite all the protests from the others, stomps on it. The crunch as it cracks into several pieces is a most satisfying sound. 

“Sorry, guys,” Steve says. “There’s a reasonable explanation, really. We’ll, uh…” They all start laughing. “We’ll make one up later.”

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to check me out on tumblr for more stucky and marvel fun at [thebestpersonherelovesbucky](http://thebestpersonherelovesbucky.tumblr.com/)


End file.
